


Virtus

by boredhswf



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredhswf/pseuds/boredhswf
Summary: "It's not about ideologies anymore or what we wish the world was. It just isn’t. You have to decide what matters and then do whatever you can to keep it. Sometimes that means making impossible decisions; choices that take a piece of you.”
Relationships: Angela Martin/Dwight Schrute, Erin Hannon/Pete Miller, Pam Beesly/Jim Halpert
Comments: 16
Kudos: 393





	1. This is Home Now

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been rattling around my head for a very long time. It's not for the faint of heart, as this apocalyptic universe is gritty, dark and twisty but JAM is at the center. The character death is NOT Jim, Pam or their children.
> 
> Cross-posted at MTT

She heard water. On the edge of her consciousness, she was there again. The Day her world spun out of control. Her anchors never left, they were always there, keeping her from losing her grip.

“Daddy, did you see that?” Her daughter’s voice broke through the sound of wind rustling leaves. His distracted voice pulled her attention further. He sounded so far away but she knew instinctively where he was. She always did.

“Yeah, honey that was awesome. Let’s go, buddy, that’s enough eating mud for one day.” He swung her son up into his arms and began walking back towards her. Her rational mind knew this couldn’t be real but her senses kept flooding with information. The feeling of the plaid picnic blanket under her elbows. The smell of the cheap paperback she was reading. The breeze drifting the sounds of an afternoon in Scranton to her ears.

'No no no no no' She knew what was coming next and she willed it not to happen, slamming her eyes shut. It didn’t stop the sounds of metal bending, twisting and crashing, screams and shattering glass surrounding her. The sounds of everything she knew coming to a horrifying end. She dared to look just as the giant passenger jet fell from the sky…

* * *

Pam woke up gasping, eyelids flying open, the blurry shades of her nightmare, and the feeling of panicked falling beginning to subside. She laid frozen as she became more aware of her surroundings, piece by piece, element by element. The ticking clock. The white cotton curtain gently flapping in the morning sunlight spilling through the open window. The soft, cool feel of her sheets. Her heart was slowing and she took a deep, ragged breath. There was a stillness now, absent was the electric hum of Before and she closed her eyes, knowing now when and where she was. She reached blindly for the warmth of her husband’s body, needing his gravity to balance her universe, but found only a cold, empty indentation, long since abandoned. He had probably been up before the sun carrying an unreasonable amount of burden on his capable shoulders and that familiar knot of worry pulled in her stomach. She worried about a lot of things these days but she always felt his trouble deep in her bones being so inextricably bound to him. It was quiet, still, moments like this that she longed for the simpler time, so distant and far it almost seemed like the whisper of a dream. A dream when her worries consisted of what to make for dinner and his latest prank not if they will have enough food for winter and if the next supply run will leave her a widow.

Completely unrested, she pulled herself out of bed with a sigh and moved quietly across the room, feeling the smoothness of the hardwood under her bare feet. She reached the old antique dresser and quickly pulled on her jeans and a fresh tank top over her head. She sighed again as she noticed another hole in the tattered edge of her shirt. She would have to be more careful washing this one if it was going to last much longer. She turned to the oval, simply framed mirror to check her reflection, her gaze falling on her slimness borne of the hard work of living here, living now. Her hair reached well past her shoulder blades now and she pulled at a loose curl, considering for a moment that he always liked it down before deciding to pull it into a ponytail to relieve the humid heat already pricking at the back of her neck. Warm weather was short-lived anymore but when it came, it came with a vengeance. 

When she opened the old farmhouse door, sounds and smells drifted down the hall from the kitchen downstairs. She heard before she saw her children eating breakfast at the large round wooden table. As she opened the swinging door, she came upon four children loudly discussing a mountain lion sighting that had all the neighboring farms buzzing.

“That’s ridiculous. My dad told me once that there hasn’t been a mountain lion seen around here in a hundred years!” Phillip Schrute exclaimed as he shoved an entire pancake in his mouth, honey dripping off his chin.

“Well, MY dad says they are getting braver and coming after the livestock,” Cece Halpert counters with a disgusted look in his direction. She grabbed the jar of milk mid-pour from her little brother’s unsteady hands, filling his glass without skipping a beat, “And, he says that old Roger Boon is not as crazy as everyone thinks he is.”

“Oh my God, your dad is-“

“Phillip Schrute, what did I say about that?” Angela scolds without even turning around from her task at the sink. Her blonde hair almost to her waist now but as always the single braid down her back is impeccably plaited. “Oh, how nice of you to join us, Pam. I was about to send room service to your room for you.” She turned to place a dish on the shelf, her familiar, dry tone greeting Pam. She ignored her, walking towards the table and reaching for a biscuit and her children.

Leaning over to the other tall boy at the table, “What’s room service?” whispered Phillip.

“Mom!” Phil Halpert turned in his chair, reaching for her.

“Good morning,” softly taking him into a hug at her waist, leaning over to kiss his hair placing her other hand on Cece’s back.

She walked out into the dusty yard, the morning sun already bringing its suppressing heat down on everything it touched, her mission clear. She needed to ground herself with his presence after her nightmare. She spotted him in the doorway of the barn, rhythmically working back and forth over what looked to be a large tangle of rusted metal. Wordlessly, she moved in behind him wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face into his back, inhaling his scent that was like home to her.

“Mmm,” he hummed and she sighed feeling the vibration through his chest. She continued to hold him as he stopped his motion and wrapped one arm over hers, straightening slightly. He was but a ghost of the mild-mannered paper salesman she fell in love with all those years ago. Still tall of course but no longer lanky, the difficulties of their life now having made him more muscular and harder. His hair was not as long but he wore a short beard now claiming it was just easier that way but she preferred it and he knew that, so it stayed. Scars and quiet determination defined his countenance now. There were still times when the joking, lighthearted part of him would seep to the surface, usually in private moments shared between them but now the responsibilities he carried so deeply, covered any part of who he used to be.

Quietly she whispered into his back, “What time did you get up this morning?”

“Early,” came his reply as he set down his tool and turned in her arms to face her, “I wanted to let you sleep.” He gently kissed her forehead sealing the gesture with his own in the same place, letting his hands and eyes drift down to the small swell of her stomach, his thoughts as clear to her as if he had spoken them aloud.

She closed her eyes feeling his worry roll off of him, “I’m fine, Jim, I promise,” leaning back placing her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs stroking his beard, willing him to hear her words, “we are both fine.” His eyes told her she had not succeeded and she sighed.

It had only been a couple of weeks since they determined she was pregnant, and he was still reeling. The thought terrified him thinking about all that could go wrong. Jim always wanted more kids with her, as many as she would give him, but now the risk of pregnancy and delivery was more than he wanted to think about. Having a baby now carried a whole new meaning. Another mouth to feed and protect was just the beginning. With no more hospitals, childbirth had reverted back two hundred years in its complication and danger. There was a doctor in their little community but there was no guarantee Jim could get her to him if something happened. 

They had finally found a pregnancy test that worked on their most recent run but Pam instinctively knew she was before the test had confirmed it. They both had always known it was a possibility, of course. Birth control was non-existent now. Pills lost their potency and latex weakened over time. She had heard of some women in the trading centers like Tent City that were perpetually pregnant and by different men each time. She couldn’t imagine that existence and it was one of the countless reasons she was thankful for Jim. Even from their very first tremulous time together, he was her last and forever was the only word that described their intimacy. She was able to guess that she was about 12 weeks based on when Jim had been home from supply runs and her size so far. Pam was at peace with them having another baby and Jim wished he could share in her confidence but he was scared to death.

“I have to go find Pete,” he sighed as he moved away reluctantly and reached for his ever-present weapon holster to pull it on, “Erin is out of vitamins and there are some other things Larissa needs. We were going to try that pharmacy in Jamestown. It wasn’t too bad last time we passed through.”

She furrowed her brow and crossed her arms, missing his warmth instantly. “You just went last week. Can’t Brian go?”

“Brian’s working in the west field with Jeff. He’s more valuable there today. We need that wheat crop to get harvested if we want to have grain this winter.”

She knew he was right but that didn’t help the knots in her stomach every time he left. Leaving the sanctuary of the farm was always a risk. They had one of the only few remaining cars that worked in the entire area. An old farm truck that had been Dwight’s father’s, an old fashioned choke and valuable. That alone puts a target on their backs but also gave them an advantage. They could move from place to place faster than most now that had to travel on foot or rely on horses. The roads were full of gangs and desperate individuals, groups that roamed and took what they wanted. Without civilization, people reverted back to violence and savagery and the social order was simple, the strong had survived and the weak had not. The more scarce resources became, the more desperate people became. Sadly, it seemed women and children had suffered the most and been ruthlessly treated with the constraints of laws and morality eroded completely away. Jim’s friend Brian had once compared it to Wolves and Sheep and she felt the description was befitting.

“What does that make you two?” She had asked him over the flames of the campfire that night.

“The Sheepdog,” Jim quietly responded for him from next to her, his eyes on the fire.

Food was beginning to run out everywhere. It was getting colder and winters longer every year. They attributed it to whatever weapon was used to cause all this was slowly killing the planet. Farmers were beginning to be concerned that the growing season would begin to be too short. They had been immeasurably lucky that Dwight had a place to retreat to outside the city. He had offered for them to stay when everything started to fall apart and they had shown up on his and Angela’s doorstep. They had been able to grow food every year but those in the cities were beginning to starve and had begun to move. 

The cities, if they still existed, had become too dangerous, overrun by gangs, or burned out from rioting. As far as they all knew, the large cities or population centers and all the people in them were gone. Communication only came from travelers that passed through and it was unreliable. She didn’t know if her mom and sister were alive. Jim had never reached his parents and brothers, knowing they were all at his brother’s house in Boston when It happened. They both knew the chances that any of them were still alive were slim as Boston along with most of the northeast was gone. Jim’s sister, Larissa, was the only family they had left.

Of all the men in their group, she preferred Pete and particularly Brian with Jim. Pete had turned out to be a talented fighter and marksman and Brian was former military, college buddy, and a loyal friend of Jim’s. Brian was almost always at Jim’s side and the two of them worked together seamlessly. Pete also had a lot to fight for these days as Erin was six months pregnant herself.

“Hurry back,” her lips lingered softly over his. She yearned to tell him more, that if he left her alone she would cease to breathe, that her soul was bound to his forever, but the words wouldn’t come. With a quick kiss to her temple, he was gone.

Jim found Pete easily. Usually, wherever Erin was, Pete wasn’t far. This morning Erin was hanging damp laundry on the corded laundry lines stretched between the corner of the main house and an outbuilding and he was helping her. There was always laundry flapping on those lines it seemed and was one of the best places to begin a search for an adult female in their group. Jim had heard Pam complain about it on many occasions. ‘There’s always more laundry,’ she would groan. The washing of the laundry was done the old fashioned way now with a washboard and it was difficult. 

The division of labor had happened organically at the farm. Everyone pitched in where they could and some tasks naturally fell to certain people. Angela was surprisingly good with the children and had taken on their schooling and care. Erin and Pam were the best cooks in the group and made sure the garden, canning, and food supplies were maintained. Meredith and her son worked mostly in the barn with the livestock. Descended from generations of farmers, Jeff with the help of his Uncle Henry easily made sure the group had enough crops for the humans and animals. That left Jim, Pete, and Brian in charge of security and scavenging. After Dwight was gone, Jim and Brian stepped up to take on more of the farm work. During certain times of the year when the food had to be harvested and stored, every single person on the farm helped, even the children.

They headed to the weapons storage room below the main house to load up with a few more guns. Many years ago Dwight had built a room under the house with cement walls and a secure, locked door. They had an enviable supply of weapons, many of them military-grade, thanks mostly to Dwight’s preparedness from his tenacious insistence that the world was ending at any time. As Jim opened the heavy door, he smiled at the memory of his old friend. He often silently thanked him for his foresight that had helped keep his own family alive. He wished he could have told him so.

It took them less than two hours to get to Jamestown. The trip was almost entirely two-lane road that had been mostly cleared of abandoned cars, which made for fast travel even though the beat-up old truck only topped out at about 50 mph. The few small towns they passed through were mostly uninhabited and picked over. If people did live there, they hid. Scavengers and road gangs were ruthless. Nature had begun to take over many structures, vines, and trees overgrown, debris, and trash littering once-pristine streets. Once the food ran out, people moved on or died off. Jamestown was far away from the interstate, wasn’t on the way to anywhere, and was one of the first to empty. They had scouted there once before. Jeff had told them he had a third cousin that had lived there. There was a pharmacy that had a sign in the window with black sharpie written letters, ‘Take What You Need. God Bless’.

Jim looked over his arm resting on the steering wheel in Pete’s direction. He wasn’t a talkative man really but he could tell something was on his mind. Circumstances of surviving and keeping the group alive had made them friends but beyond their shared lives, they had never had much in common.

“What’s up man, you haven’t said two words since we left the farm?”

“Eh, I don’t know, it’s nothing really.” He ran his hand down his face and stared back out the truck window.

Jim hadn’t planned on pressing the issue further but Pete blurted out, “I want to marry Erin before the baby comes.”

“Well, what’s the problem then?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a ring for one. Who would do it? I mean it’s not exactly what I envisioned when we were dating Before, you know. I had bigger plans, I guess.”

“Then the world had to end,” Jim said dryly.

“Yeah, then the world had to end.” Pete looked back out the window pensively.

“Good things are rare anymore. The most important thing is that you two have each other and are committed. The rest is just details. Besides, I bet we can find a ring of some sort for her if we look hard enough…if that sort of thing matters to her.” He glanced back at Pete.

Jim had never really understood Erin. She was nice but a little flighty and shrill. He appreciated that Pete loved her though and he certainly appreciated wanting to make the woman that you love happy.

“Oh, I think it does. She says it doesn’t but she’s just saying that to make me feel better. Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you nervous about Pam having a baby? I mean now?”

“Of course. It’s terrifying. Honestly, it’s always been terrifying but Pam thinks it will be fine so,” he shrugged, “there’s not much I can do. I just have to be there for her any way I can.”

“Yeah.” He was quiet for a minute, “I just feel so helpless. Like, I want to fix all this and make it better for her but there’s not a damn thing I can do.”

“Nope, there isn’t.” Jim rubbed his face, understanding the younger man’s meaning far too well.

Jim pulled the old truck slowly in front of the old pharmacy, the sign still in place in the window. As he killed the engine, he looked around at every vantage point and building he could see, pulled out the clip systematically on each of his guns to check them, pulling back to load a bullet into the chamber and flipping off the safety. He looked over at Pete who was doing the same.

“Let’s do this and get home.”

They cautiously stepped out not letting the truck doors slam, constantly scanning the abandoned street as they walked. People that were left were often dangerous or desperate and desperate people made dangerous people, especially to strange men with guns. They made their way through what was left of the front door and into the store. Most of the shelves had been picked over and were almost empty. Leaves, dirt, and debris intermingled with dirty birthday cards and Christmas gift wrap. Pete made his way to the vitamin section and spotted what was left of the prenatal bottles on the bottom shelf. Quickly swiping the last two he made his way to the first aid aisle. As he predicted, there were no supplies left which he had known was a long shot. He found Jim behind the prescription counter looking over the shelves with a torn piece of paper in his hand with scribbled names of several medicines on it. Seemingly finding the first item he quickly stuffed it into his satchel and went to the next row, searching each bottle label, completely focused on his task. Pete turned and began looking through the scattered items all over the floor of the store for anything of value. The sound of voices outside made him freeze and in the blink of an eye pull his gun. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Jim had heard the same thing and had a gun trained at the front of the store. They caught each other’s eye and slowly navigated over the discarded items strewn all over the center aisle, moving towards the voices.

“Well, shit man look at this.”

“Somebody’s here. They didn’t just leave this here, hood’s warm.”

The men rounded the corner and came face to face with Pete and Jim’s drawn weapons.

“Whoah, hey there!” Both men tensely put their hands up,” we just noticed the truck. You don’t see many of those anymore.”

Jim noticed that the talkative one was carrying a gun himself in the front of his pants, themselves stained and torn. He was almost as tall as Jim and his dirty blonde hair was long and pulled together at the base of his neck. The second, skinner man looked rougher with a greasy beard and ripped biker jacket. Not the kind of guys Jim would necessarily want to meet in a dark alley but then everyone sort of looked like that anymore. He slowly lowered his gun but didn’t change his grip and Pete followed his lead.

“It’s ours,” he said firmly.

“Ah, that’s a nice one. You best hold on to that.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes and Jim kept his face blank in response. “My name is Daniel Mackenzie. Most people just call me Mac. This here is Johnny or asshole as I like to call him.” The greasy man chuckled.

He looked expectantly at Jim.

“Jim.”

“Pete,” Pete responded in kind.

Mac focused in on Jim, “You have a last name, Jim?”

Jim eyed him suspiciously, unsure why it mattered, “Halpert.”

“Halpert,” he repeated, “Nice to meet you. Any good stuff in here?” He slowly walked past the two men in the entryway, only breaking eye contact as he grabbed a tattered roll of paper towels off the shelf, 

“It doesn’t look like much is left.” The cordial tone he carried was severely undermined by the palatable tension in the room.

“Do you guys live around here?”

When neither man offered up a response he continued, “We came down from Jersey. Philly was burned out so we just kept on going west. Picked up people along the way. We have a group camped about a mile from here. Do you have a group?”

Jim finally spoke just a touch too quickly, “No. Just us.” There was no way he was going to reveal anything to these guys, he thought to himself. He had learned long ago that in this new world, less information was better.

Mac studied him. “Well, you must have lost her then, in the aftermath?” He motioned at Jim’s left hand where his silver wedding band stood out against the deep black of the pistol he still gripped. Jim internally cursed his oversight and willed his face to convey no emotion. It was a card-less game of poker the two were playing and this man was calling his bluff.

“Huh,” a hint of a smile crossing his expression before clapping his hands together, “Let’s see what we can find in here Johnny boy!” The men began shuffling through the jars on the shelves haphazardly. 

Jim and Pete exchanged looks and edged toward the door slowly. If they could just get out of here soon without any more talking, they would try.

As they began to reach the broken front door, “Hey Pete!” Mac shouted from the prescription counter, ignoring their obvious intent to leave, “You seem like a man who knows things. Do you know of any places around here we could stay at? Any empty places? We really would like to stop traveling but we just haven’t found the right place yet.”

“Uh, no… No.” Pete stammered slightly. Mac knowingly stared at the younger man, making him uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “If it’s just you two, why are you in a hurry? I heard there were some nice farms out here. Amish or some shit. They had it figured out, huh? Any of these places you know of? Food and a place to sleep is all we really need.”

“A piece of ass and some booze would be nice too,” Johnny added with a smirk. Mac shot him a look.

“We’re going now. Good luck with that.” Jim backed to the door pushing the broken frame open with his foot, letting Pete slip through the opening first, covering him.

Not bothering to hide behind a fake smile now, “See you two some other time then.” Mac followed their retreating forms with his glare.

They would take a different route home. Just in case.


	2. Dirty Water, Final Scraps of Light

“Saturday morning pick up games at the Y.”

“Breakfast at the Diner. Remember that place, Jim? On Lindon Avenue?” 

“Isn’t this masochistic?”

“My bathtub. With hot water.”

Scranton was gone. What was left was consumed by the fire the anarchists' gangs made in nightly homage to their victory. She had moved up next to him, her hand slipping into his silently, her warm breath reaching his skin through his shirt as she leaned into his arm. Her presence solidified his decision. It always had. Whenever he wavered on anything, her existence brought everything into focus for him. It was all that mattered.

“We have to go,” he spoke quietly, his voice barely reaching her ears over the roar of the fire as it consumed the building down the street.

“I know.”

They left that next morning with the early light. West. 

The crack and pop of the fire provided the only noise beyond their voices. They had made camp on the blacktop of the road between two abandoned cars after walking down that very same road all day. 

Jim pushed a stick into the fire, “Come on Brian, don’t be that guy.”

Brian scoffed quietly, “Fine. SportsCenter with a bowl of cereal.” There were groans and eye rolls around the fire.

“All the things to miss about weekends and you pick cereal?” Jim looked over at him.

“And SportsCenter,” Brian countered. 

Jim tried to visualize SportsCenter with its memorable six-note theme song, or the Phillies striking out yet again, or anything really to get the image of earlier out of his mind, burned into the back of his eyelids. 

They had stopped to take a break and he stared vacantly into the woods when a flash of metal caught his eye. He made his way through the heavy brush, realizing as he got closer that it was the metal of a hand wagon and it was full of what looked like the remains of someone’s earthly belongings. He looked around cautiously for its owner, his hand coming up to rest on the weapon at his side. Stepping over a log to get closer, he felt something hit his shoe and when he looked down he gasped sharply. The body was facing down, its already decaying form beginning to be reclaimed by the earth, dirty clothing sinking unnaturally around bones. Jim didn’t know how long he stood there staring down, imagining the person that used to occupy it. He looked back up at the wagon. A suitcase. Shoes. A box of dented cans of food. The corner of a picture poked out behind the edge of blue of a wool blanket. He slowly reached for it, freeing it with two fingers. It looked like it had been taken at a wedding as five smiling faces stared back at him from the glossy surface. Which one was he, he wondered, or was he even in this picture at all? Was it all that was left of the people he had loved? He bent down and laid the picture on the surface of the dirty flannel shirt covering the body, a silent memorial to the life that ceased here, shivering as a cold breeze rustled the leaves above his head. 

He walked back up to the road carrying the box of cans, Pam turning to him with Phil in her arms.

“I found some dinner."

* * *

Pam nervously looked out the kitchen window for what felt like the hundredth time. 

The large yellow farmhouse had several windows that faced east, down the long driveway that wound through orchards and fields. The Schrute farm Dwight had inherited was huge and more than enough for even their rather large group. Because of its size and remoteness, it had kept them safe. No one ever ventured down that long dusty road and the forests and fields stretched for miles, and a large, fast-moving river ran the entire length of the land creating a natural buffer. The nearest town wasn’t really much more than a single street with one, long-abandoned gas station, and a few storefronts. A sad reminder of life Before. A life they would never see again. Now, its only use was a twice-yearly trading meetup that brought farmers and other survivors from all the local homesteads to trade supplies, crops, and information. Over the last few years, it had become something she genuinely looked forward to. They spent weeks preparing things to trade, making lists of things to look for, and allowing themselves to get excited. There were times that weeks would go by and not a single soul would be seen outside of their group so it had been encouraging to see others surviving, making a life out of the nothing that was left of this world.

“How are you feeling? Are you still having morning sickness?” Larissa asked quietly as she snapped green beans at the table in the center of the kitchen.

“I’m better now, I haven’t gotten sick in about a week or so.” She peeled the pile of potatoes mindlessly, her thoughts drifting. There were so many daily challenges now that she took for granted before. Food didn’t come in cans or boxes anymore. It had to be grown or harvested, hunted, or butchered. Meals were not quick, even things like flour had to be hand-milled before you baked. Pam never imagined she would have to know how to do all these things but here she was.

“Jim said you need some medications. What are you getting this time?” Pam hadn’t meant for it to come out in an accusatory tone but Larissa picked up on it.

“I’m sorry, Pam. I just mentioned it to Jim for the next time he went, I didn’t want him to make a special trip but you know how he is.”

Pam waved her hand dismissively and smiled, “Yes. Yes, I do. Don’t tell him I said this, but I think he secretly likes going on runs. He gets bored if he stays around here too long.”

Larissa chuckled softly, “He used to roam the neighborhood on his bike when he was a kid. It’s kind of like that.”

“As long as he comes home, that’s all I care about.” Pam distractedly looked out the window, down the drive again.

“Oh please, Pam.” She looked at her incredulously, “Nothing will stop him from getting to you. The sun rises and sets with you. It always has.”

Pam turned and smiled warmly at her. Larissa was every bit her sister now. Months and months of barely surviving together bonded them in a way nothing else could. She was so much like Jim in so many ways. Smart and funny, people were naturally drawn to her. She often watched her and Jim together it made her miss her own sister with painful longing. In the stillness of the night, she wondered if Penny was out there somewhere and if she was okay. The hope of seeing her someday faded a little more every year that passed.

She glanced out the window again as she grabbed the last potato to peel. Her arms ached for him. Pregnancy hormones playing an active part, she just wanted to be near him constantly lately, wrapped in his arms, the utter safety she felt there making everything else fall away. The draw to him had always been powerful but now she missed everything about him when he was gone. The timbre of his voice and the way he leaned down, brushing the shell of her ear with his lips when he spoke to her. The warmth of his hand on the small of her back as he led her into a room. The way he seemed to deliciously surround her in every way when he was moving over and inside her. She smiled and bit her lip at the thought while dropping large handfuls of peeled potatoes into the stew pot, stirring it slowly. When she looked up for the hundred and first time, she noticed the faint drift of dust coming up from the horizon of the grassy field.

She turned to Larissa who had moved on to chopping carrots, “I think they’re home.”

She wiped her hands quickly on the dishrag and moved for the door. By the time the old truck rolled into the yard, Larrisa and Erin had joined her. She let out an audible sigh of relief when they both stepped out, seemingly fine. He walked up to her with that lopsided grin and a look in his eyes she knew was reserved only for her and she stepped into his arms without hesitation, her lips meeting his. Her fists pulled on his shirt trying to bring herself that much closer and he smiled against her at her effort.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I was only gone a few hours,” he smiled again, still slightly knocked off balance by her display. “You’ll be happy to know, however, I didn’t pick up any stray dogs and I found some medicine.”

“Good day.”

“Good day,” he echoed.

He broke eye contact to look over her head towards Larissa, “Hey, Rissa I think this is what you were looking for, right?” He reached around with his free hand to the satchel on his shoulder and pulled out several prescription bottles and tossed them at her. Pam wasn’t letting go of the grip she had on his other hand, sandwiched between both of her own.

“Mmm, yeah,” reading the labels while she spoke, “I think these will do, thank you.”

Larissa had been in nursing school when The Day happened. She had only a semester left before graduating and on one of the runs they had come across an abandoned house that a doctor must have lived in. The bookshelves were lined with medical books so Jim brought back a few for her and it had reignited her passion for medicine. Now she was on a mission to stock a rudimentary medical supply with a mixture of natural remedies and more traditional ones.

“Dad!” Cece and Phil ran out from the other side of the barn and surrounded Jim, wrapping their arms around his waist while he kissed the top of Cece’s head. He thought back to the two men in the pharmacy, and he would be damned if he let men like that anywhere near what he had right here in front of him.

Pam tugged his arm towards the house, “Go rest and clean up. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Dinner at the farm typically went in shifts since it was hard to get everyone together at the same time. Usually, the kids ate first and went to finish chores before it got too dark. All that was left this night at the table was Jim, Pete, Jeff, Henry, and Brian. The women had retreated to the front porch to enjoy the nice breeze and listen to Erin talk about what she had read last night in the “Everything You Need to Know About Babies” book with knowing smiles. Meredith and Larissa were taste testing a moonshine recipe a local farmer had created. Judging by their giggles and smirks it must have been quite good.

“I think we are looking good in that west field,” Jeff wiped his mouth after his last bite, placing his napkin on his plate and reclining in his chair, “Hopefully the cold weather will hold off. How’d it go today?” Jeff was a no-nonsense, salt of the earth farmer and he always got right to the point. Jim had always admired his pragmatism.

Pete glanced at Jim who was staring at his glass while not really seeing it. In his mind, he was going over all the routes between Jamestown and here and estimating their likelihood, only half listening.

“Ah, it was fine. There’s not much left there but I think we got everything we went after.” He paused, glancing at Jim again, “We ran into two guys. They apparently have a group looking for a place near here to settle.”

Jeff and Brian both looked up at Jim, “Were they anything to worry about?” Brian asked, pulling him back into the conversation.

Jim swallowed and took a long sip of his drink before he spoke, ”I don’t know. I didn’t get a good vibe off of them. They seemed to be really interested in what we had and who we were with. I wish I had remembered to take my ring off and had hidden the truck. It was sloppy.” He ran his hand over his beard twice, “We need to keep an eye out for them, but maybe they’ll keep moving. We took a long way home, just in case they followed us.”

“The biker looking one seemed like a real dirtbag,” Pete supplied and Jim nodded.

“Things are changing. More and more people are on the roads. Food must be running out everywhere,” Jim added, “I know we have talked about it in the past but we need to really consider some kind of fortifications to keep anyone,” he paused searching for the word, “nefarious, from getting too close to the house and barns.”

“I think it’s time too,” Brian agreed. 

_____________________

Pam was folding towels when Jim opened the door to their room. She had already readied for bed, not wasting any time after the kids were settled to get comfortable and shed the day along with her clothes. He smiled at her small frame dwarfed in one of his shirts, the bottom edge falling on the creamy softness of her thighs. He quickly kicked off his shoes and dirty jeans and pulled on a clean shirt, collapsing on his side of the bed with his arm thrown over his face.

“It feels like I’ve been up for days.”

“Well, you have considering you haven’t slept much lately,” he heard her voice from across their room.

“Yeah,” he responded and he felt the bed give way slightly, her small hand snaked around his middle as she tucked her head into his shoulder. His breathing deepened and his limbs felt heavy as he was on the blissful edge of sleep when he felt something wet on his shirt. He pulled back and looked at her.

“Are you crying? I mean, I know I’m not as young and handsome as I used to be but I didn’t think I was that bad.” His voice was deep and raspy with exhaustion and she felt guilty as she muffled her embarrassed snort into his chest, ”You will always be handsome,” she murmured.

He reached down and pulled at her knee, bringing it across his body causing her warmth to drape around him, “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

Seeing her cry always unsettled him deeply in a way he could never explain but he knew this Pam well and he knew why. She would have moments like this when the hormones overwhelmed her body and she gave in to the torrent of emotions. When she was pregnant with Phil, she would constantly be on the verge of tears. Experience had taught him that she would be back to normal and that he could remedy the situation either by making her laugh or worshiping her body until she finally would rest in blissful oblivion.

“I’m just so emotional today, I’m sorry,” her voice was small and soft against his shirt and he made circles with his thumb on the outside of her knee. “I was thinking about how I hate when you leave, even for a little bit anymore. And that makes me mad that I’m so needy.” He chuckled and she continued her stream of consciousness, ”I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Promise me you won’t do anything dangerous. I do not want you risking your life out of some ridiculous sense of obligation,” it all came out like a flood and she bit off a sob but the tears started flowing again.

He shook his head, pulling her even closer to him, putting his lips to her hair as he spoke, “I’m not going anywhere and you are going to be fine, it’s going to be okay.” She looked up at him with swollen eyes and he just wanted to take it all away for her. He kissed the soft curls at her temple again and stayed there. “It’s my job, and I’m sorry Beesly, but I took those vows very, very seriously all those years ago.” He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth but she blinked more tears down her cheeks not biting at his levity.

“Listen,” his voice dropped even lower and the sudden seriousness made her look at him again, “I have to, you know that. You and Cece and Phil and this baby are all that I live for. I have no life but you.” She nodded and took a shuddering breath.

“Angela was crying at Dwight’s grave today and it just hit me, I’m sorry.” She wiped her cheeks and settled her head in the spot that seemed made for her alone where his neck met his shoulder.

Jim was quiet for several minutes, composing his thoughts carefully, “Well, I’d like to think I knew Dwight well and he would have not done anything differently that night as long as it kept Angela and Phillip safe.” With a soft sigh, he tightened his arms around her. He tried to not dwell on what happened with Dwight too much or he would feel the dangerous tendrils of anger and darkness threaten to choke him again. He had tried so hard to let go but the series of events that night had fundamentally changed him. His friend so senselessly killed over a couple of cans of peaches. The smell of gunpowder and the haunted look in the eyes of that stranger as he drew his last breath. All of their lives changed in an instant. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling her deeply to ground himself here, now. “Let’s go to bed. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He blew out the lantern next to the bed and climbed under the covers, pulling her to him again, the curve of her moving effortlessly against him, their legs wrapped around one another in their usual position.

She spoke so softly, he wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it, “Don’t you ever leave me, James Halpert. Ever.”


	3. You Know War, it Has no Heart

She absently wondered what her hair looked like. 

A long piece had fallen in her eyes but the effort it would take to lift her hand and push it behind her ear seem overwhelming so she left it. 

They had been walking for what felt like months but in reality, it was only a few weeks. They knew Dwight's aunt's farm that he had inherited was out in this county but they weren't exactly sure where and their wandering was beginning to take its toll. Her whole body ached in a way it never had before. Her feet had stopped throbbing days ago and now the pain just emanated all the way up to her hips. She had carried Phil in a sling carrier and Jim had carried the much heavier Cece when she got tired, often sleeping soundly against his shoulder. When they saw the little deserted cabin, they all silently agreed that this was where they would sleep for the night, maybe two. Moving, always moving, and the silence that permeated everything. Something about being on the road made them communicate wordlessly with gestures and looks. The hollow sound of the wind and leaves seemed to echo in her mind, eventually drowning out her own voice and replacing it with emptiness. 

Jim and Brian went off to hunt for something to eat. The rabbit they had two nights ago seemed like a distant memory. She was amazed at how quickly the available food supply ran out, taking only a few months. They found the occasional canned food forgotten in someone's pantry or a bag of rice left in a basement. She had chosen to ignore the weevils in the package of flour she had found stuffed in an upper cabinet of an abandoned middle-class home they came across. That flour fed them for several days, bugs or not. Pam noticed something about hunger. After a time the sharp pain in her stomach gave way to something heavier, more desperate. She started to think of eating things that she would have never even considered before and it was all she could think about. The pain became all-consuming and it felt like the life was slowly draining out of her, sinking into nothing. Each small movement a chore, each step tormenting. She had given most of her meal to the children and Jim, in turn, gave most of his to her in a sad game of who needs the food more. She couldn't bear her children being hungry and she knew Jim felt the same, their sense of responsibility and love overriding their own body's screaming need for sustenance. 

Pam looked around the sparse one-room cabin, her exhaustion allowing for little more than setting up a pallet of blankets for the kids to sleep on. Larissa was wiping off a table with a dirty towel she found on the floor. She glanced over at Cece who had found an old ball cap in the corner and was dusting it off when she heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Well, what do we have here?" 

She swung around to see two grimy men standing in the open doorway, both looking as weathered and tired as they did. They each had backpacks slung over their shoulders and one had a pistol shoved in his pants. She reached for Cece and Phil and pulled them behind her. 

"It's not every day you come across two pretty ladies all alone."

"My husband will be right back," Pam tried to sound confident but it sounded weak even to her own ears. Ignoring the idle warning, one of the men moved over to where Jim's backpack was sitting and she reached for it but the man with the pistol pulled it and aimed it at her.

"Hey there, none of that," he said with a tone that made her skin crawl.

He moved closer to her and Larissa as the other man dumped out Jim's bag and began shuffling through it, spreading the items out all over the floor around him. The armed one stood over her and leaned her back slightly on the table at her back putting the pistol near her face as she grimaced and turned away.

"Do you have anything you are hiding? We will find it if you do." He continued to press pushing the end of the pistol into her cheek and Cece started to cry, "Unless you'd like to offer something in exchange. I bet you have something very nice you can trade." He licked his filthy lips and rubbed the hard, cold pistol end near hers. He looked over at Larissa, "What about you, sweetheart?"

She heard a gun cock.

"Get...the hell...away from them." The low resonance of Jim's voice was cold and deadly and she felt like crying at the sound of it. He and Brian stood in the doorway, their guns trained on the two men. 

Startled, the man stepped back from Pam and turned to face him, "We were just having a conversation." The expression on the man's face, that seemed to be ready to challenge Jim and Brian, changed once he took in their formidable appearance. 

Pam picked up Phil and grabbed Cece's hand and moved behind Jim, Larissa following close behind her. 

Brian gestured at the other man with his weapon, "Put our shit down and get the hell out of here." 

The man set down what he had taken from the bag and the two of them walked slowly out of the cabin, smirking as they went. 

"Creeps," Larissa muttered. 

Jim immediately holstered his gun and turned to her, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, relief washing over her. 

"Daddy?" Cece's weak cry had him picking her up into his arms in a tight hug.

"Daddy's got you. You're okay." 

"Bad man," she spoke quietly into his shirt. 

"I know, he's gone." He pulled Pam to him and put his lips to the top of her head then looked over at Brian who was leaning out the door, continuing to watch and make sure the two men were actually leaving.

"You stay. I'll keep hunting." Brian stepped back outside and disappeared into the woods. 

* * *

Pam finished up placing the cooled jars of green beans into wooden crates that lined the back of the truck and stopped, taking in for a moment the palpable energy of everyone around her. Every year they were here, it became easier to forget. The memory of all those months before they arrived here was becoming more and more distant, the colors of it less vibrant. The sting of the debilitating pain easing, day by day, month by month. She knew it was still out there, like a monster prowling around the outer edges of her mind, the loss and hopelessness that existed outside the farm gates. She didn't dare let the feeling of happiness seep into her heart too deeply, instead, she held it at arm's length waiting for it to shatter in her hands. 

"Mom! Do you think someone would want these? They're old CDs. You can hang them up to scare away animals in the field, and they're kind of pretty." Cece held up a beat-up shoebox full of CDs without cases. 

"Worth a try I guess," Pam shrugged. She watched her daughter drop the box next to the baked loaves of bread near the front of the truck bed and run back into the house. She was 10 now and she was changing more every day into her own person, her long, light brown curls bouncing as she ran. She often thought about the effect of Now would have on her children, knowing they wouldn't have the childhood she or Jim had. Their innocence was lost years ago and as much as she and Jim had tried to protect them from the horrors around them, they knew of them just the same. When Cece asked earlier if boys like hair up or down because the Davis boys were going to be at the meetup today, she honestly thought Jim was going to faint, but it brought a smile to her lips. Something as normal as a crush was what she wished for her children, but the look on Jim's face reminded her she wasn't a father. His daughter was beautiful, confident, opinionated, and the last thing he wanted to do was turn her over to the ugliness of this world. Not yet. 

Pam watched as Jim and Pete came around from the garage behind the barn with a wheelbarrow full of random car parts, tools, and odds and ends they were hoping to trade that afternoon.

Meredith walked over with a basket of clean wool, "I hope Tucker has more of that beer he made last time. That stuff was good. It's a shame you can't have any right now, Pam. Bummer." Pam smiled and shrugged, a small price to pay she thought.

Pam went back into the kitchen one last time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything and Jim walked up behind her, fingers following the curve of her hip, kissing the back of her neck exposed by her ponytail.

"You ready? I don't think that truck can hold much more."

"We might have overdone it this time," she admitted.

In a smooth, practiced motion, Jim pulled a pistol from the back of his waistband, snapped a fully loaded clip in the handle, and handed it, grip first, to her.

"In case we get separated.”

She nodded and quickly checked the safety, putting it in her own waistband in the back covering it with the tail of her shirt.

At her request, he had taught her how to shoot as soon as they got to the farm all those years ago. His dad had taken him and his brothers to the range growing up so he had a familiarity with weapons but thankfully Brian had done basic training in the military and taught them all how to use the M4s and other weapons that had been collected at the farm. She wasn't crazy about guns but she found them the great equalizer. Her small size was no match against someone who really wanted to hurt her, but if she was armed her small frame didn't matter. Jim was almost always there, her tireless defender, but when he wasn't she didn't want to be caught helpless especially when it came to protecting her children. They had discovered early on and with painful realism that they were at a severe disadvantage in this new world without a weapon. People killed each other over the smallest things now, sometimes over nothing at all, the cold reality that was survival. Jim always had a gun on him. He carried two in the holster and a rifle on his back if he left the farm, a deterrent if nothing else, and always had one sitting on their nightstand while they slept. She joked once that she felt like he was her personal security guard.

"Well...yeah," he shrugged and she laughed.

The area meetup was organized the same way it had been in previous years. There were armed guards permitting trucks and wagons into the Main Street area which was otherwise blocked off by old semis and a nonworking fire truck. Jim was instantly recognized and waved through the checkpoint. When they pulled into the tiny town's Main Street the kids squealed with excitement. Pam and Jim exchanged amused looks. It was a quaint mix of county fair and swap meet. Lanterns lined the street as daylight was beginning to fade and people set up small areas to peddle their goods. There was a large bonfire at the end where adults were mingling with homemade beer and mason jars of moonshine. If you squinted and imagined everyone not carrying a gun, it could almost be a scene from Before, Pam thought to herself, trying to ignore the feeling of anxiousness burrowing itself in the pit of her stomach at the idea of being here, exposed.

Jim backed the truck into a spot near the end so that the bed faced the street and everyone hopped out eagerly.

"Cece, you stay with your brother at all times, do you hear me?" Pam said to her bouncing daughter.

"And do not leave the lit Main Street area. Do not go behind the buildings. Phil, stay with your sister, son." Jim added.

"Yes, Dad." He replied only half-listening having already spotted the candy covered apples.

And they were gone.

"1 in 4."

"What?" Jim looked over at Pam as she grabbed her sweater from the bench seat of the truck.

"I thought you asked me what the chances were they are going to have a stomachache tonight." He smiled at her old joke and grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles.

Later in the evening, Pam had gone with Larissa to peruse the goods and trade for salt and Jim had gone in search of a beer.

"Hey, neighbor."

Old Roger Boon reached for the large jar of moonshine next to Jim on the makeshift table. He was a rough older man, a lifetime of working in the sun had taken its toll on the skin of his face. He had lived his entire life on the same piece of land and Jim marveled at how people like that managed to make it this long unscathed on sheer luck. 

"Oh hey, how's it going?"

"Good, Good. How's that pretty lady of yours doing?"

Jim smiled, "Oh, Pam is good. We are having another baby."

"Well, damn son." Roger shook his hand, "You obviously been working more than the fields over there." He gave Jim a wink.

Jim cringed inwardly at the man's crass humor. "Yeah, okay. How's Wilson?" Desperately hoping to change the subject.

"Not as good as you! I was hoping to get him married off years ago but he stuck around. I think he's gunnin' for my still and whiskey collection." He elbowed Jim.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Hey, I have to go find the kids and get them home. Have a nice night, Roger."

"Hey, Jim!" Nicolas's high voice caught him as he turned to walk away. Jim sighed, hope fading that he could escape with a beer and return to his wife. Nicolas was one of the only remaining town inhabitants, living in a home surrounded by a junkyard a short distance from the Main Street. He lived by himself and Jim figured the only reason he remained there and alive was that the junkyard was something of a maze and no one dared to enter it. 

"Hey, Nicolas." 

"I've been hearing some rumblings about some things happening over in Lawrence County." 

Jim took a sip of the darker of the two beers on the table, making a face and setting it down, "Oh yeah, what?" He generally didn't care what the rumor mills had to say. One of the things he had noticed in recent years is how, without direct communication between people, things tended to get exaggerated. Like legends in the past, by the time the story arrived, the threat was eight feet tall with horns. 

"Two groups were murdered by a gang. Just up and killed them all. At first, they thought it was the wife on account of her body being missing but they found her a few days later at the second house. Dead," he repeated as if that wasn't clear. 

Jim tried the second, lighter beer, finding it far more palatable he poured a full glass, "That's terrible. Did anyone go after them?" 

"Nah, not that I heard," he wiped a ratty old handkerchief around the back of his neck and returned it to his back pocket, "I just heard it's a huge gang. Huge. What if they come this way? That's only two counties over."

"Well, you know road gangs pass through here all the time. They think it's abandoned and they move on. If they come this way, they probably won't even know we are here." He patted Nicolas on the shoulder lightly, looking around for Pam. Despite his dismissive tone, something bothered Jim about what Nicolas had said and he just couldn't shake it.

________________

Jim collapsed on the small loveseat on the far wall in their room feeling full of good food and surprisingly good beer. His frame was much too large for the small, antique piece of furniture, barely making the edge of the cushion and his head laying almost entirely over the back. His arms fell limply at his sides as he listened to Pam move around their room preparing for bed.

"The kids are on a sugar crash I think, but they had fun," her voice was muffled as she was clearly changing her clothes while she spoke, "You seemed to have a good time tonight."

"Yeah, it was fun," he mumbled.

"It was almost...normal like Before. It's surreal. I'm glad we do it, even if it's risky. I want the kids to know some happiness, something normal, not just surviving. I want them to know there is more to life than that."

"Mmm-hmmm." He loved her hope and optimism but didn't have the energy to open his eyes until he heard the click of the lock on their door, and he opened one eye in the direction of the sound, immediately awake. After years of married life with children that sound meant his evening was about to get so much better. A closed-lipped smile spread across his face.

"What are you smiling about?" She said as she moved to straddle him on the loveseat.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes to look up at her, his hands instantly went to her hips like magnets.

"Oh nothing," he feigned innocence as he moved his shirt she was wearing out of the way and felt her smooth skin under his hands discovering nothing separating the heat of her from the growing hardness in his jeans.

His smile widened at her boldness, "Hello there," voice suddenly deep and gravelly with need.

She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him deeply, her tongue sliding over his, running her hands back through his hair as her teeth pulled at his lower lip, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat. She kissed a trail towards his ear and sucked gently on his earlobe sending shockwaves directly down to the part of his body yearning for her the most. She pulled back and her green eyes had gone dark with desire and his body answered with his own. Crossing her arms, she pulled his shirt over her head and discarded it on the floor, never breaking eye contact. He looked up at the naked goddess sitting in his lap in wonder, the curls of her hair going every direction, the faint freckles on the bridge of her nose with her nipples dark and silky on her porcelain skin glowing in the lantern light. His fingers massaged her hips as he struggled to convey the myriad of thoughts flickering in his mind. His love for her was bottomless. Fathomless. She was one of the few remaining good and wonderful things in this world and sometimes he felt as though he clung to her for dear life. "God, Pam," all he managed to get out was a broken, "You are...so incredibly beautiful."

She blushed, her eyelashes fluttering, and looked down at her belly, "I don't feel that way anymore," and she filled her cheeks with air making an adorable blowfish face.

He shook his head in disbelief, "Are you kidding me? You are everything. You are carrying my child. That I put there," his lips beginning to make a trail along the tops of her breasts. "Nothing is hotter," murmuring between them. 

She dropped her head back and sighed softly at the feeling of his mouth on her hot skin, stroking the hair on the back of his head.

"Oh, so is that all I am now, Mr. Halpert, an outward sign of your virility?"

Overcome with the need to see and feel all of her, he swept his hands under her, effortlessly lifted her, and carried her over to their bed, gently laying her down. Entirely overdressed, he shed his clothes as fast as humanly possible. She giggled softly at his less than graceful display, pushing her tongue against her teeth in that way she always did that created a desire in him to see it again and again. When he looked back down at her lying naked on their bed, waiting patiently for him, ready and very willing, he realized with sudden clarity that he would never stop wanting her. He knew this from the day he met her, spoke the words when he first had her, and etched them on his soul when he married her. A need that hummed through every molecule of his being. Not just the physical perfection that was her body and its undeniable effect on his, but he wanted all of her. Forever. Her golden-brown curls haloing around her head, and her lips swollen from his, she looked completely wanton and he smiled, succumbing to her possession. 

"Absolutely not, Mrs. Halpert. Absolutely not."


	4. With a Bullet and a Bet

The second night of the meet up was much of the same. Agreements had been made and deals struck on many of the supplies and goods being traded and most had moved on to enjoying themselves with neighbors and friends. Pam sipped her warm apple cider slowly, legs dangling off stacked hay bales, trying to stay engaged in the conversations around her. Gossip and the mundane details most women talk about in the company of other women had always bored her. She smiled and pretended to laugh at a joke but her eyes were scanning for him in the groups of people standing and talking around the large fire. She found him holding a beer in a mason jar, talking to a group of men, one of them slapping him on the shoulder in a lighthearted banter, a grin on his face. She allowed herself the luxury of just watching him, the way his snug black Henley shirt fit around the muscles in his shoulders and arms, the way his large hands held his glass. The same talented hands that were so loving and gentle with her, that could drive her insane with need, were also so strong and fierce when they needed to be. She loved the relaxed, easy way he handled it when someone came up to him to shake his hand or talk. It reminded her of the way he would work the room years ago, the way people were drawn to his quick wit and charming smile. He looked happy for the first time in a while, the ever-present weight on his shoulders momentarily missing. As if he could feel her watching him, he met her eyes and smiled his smirk at her and she returned it with her own in the secret language they had used for years.  
  
It was getting late when they started back down Main Street heading back towards the truck. Despite the hour, the speed they took was casual, drawing out the evening as long as possible. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and she was leaning into him, wrapped around his left arm, her sweater slightly falling off her shoulder. Fleeting moments like this always felt like water in her hands and she just wanted to hold onto them a little longer. No one was in danger, Jim was alive and warm next to her, his child growing in her womb, and her children were laughing. Contentment warmed her, however brief it may be, and she relented to its strong pull, turning her head and sighing into Jim's arm.  
  
“I’m afraid to know how much beer Meredith traded for,” Jim commented when he saw Meredith heading towards the truck with a crate of bottles and she just nodded in response.  
  
“Oh good Lord.” Jim stopped walking, looking at the group of kids off to the right side of the street, standing under the lantern, all talking excitedly in a dozen different conversations the way kids do. She spotted their daughter talking to a young Davis boy, her hands twisting in front of her in a way that was very Pam Beesly of her.  
  
“It’s just a schoolgirl crush, she’s fine.”  
  
Jim’s face was serious and concerned, “I had a crush once and look how that turned out.” Pam rolled her eyes with a chuckle and patted his arm. He didn’t seem to notice or find his comment funny.  
  
“His name is Cole, I think,” she added.  
  
“What a stupid name. He sounds like a punk.”  
  
“Oh, Jim,” she smiled and pulled at his arm to keep him walking, “Come on, lets help load the truck.” He continued to stare at the poor boy.  
  
“Come on,” she coaxed, tugging gently and he reluctantly started moving again.  
  
They were almost to the entrance when he froze.  
  
“Fuck"  
  
She looked up at his face to see why he was he was using a word he rarely, if ever, used outside a passionate declaration in their bed and saw the concern play across it. She followed his eye line until she saw what was causing his reaction. About 20 feet away there was a group of men standing at the entrance, apparently trying to talk their way in. Local men started appearing from all sides of the street making their way in that direction. Before she could ask who they were, she was facing Jim’s back, Pete and Brian had joined Jim on either side making a wall of broad shoulders in front of her. Pete reached for his weapon but Jim stopped him.  
  
“Not yet,” was all he said.  
  
Jim feared this might happen. These men were scavengers and were looking for their next target. Meeting them in that pharmacy that day had led them right to them and he knew that what they had here would be all too tempting.  
  
Erin moved up beside her. “What the hell is going on?” she whispered, “Pete just walked away mid-sentence. Who are these guys?”  
  
Pam shrugged and shook her head but Jim’s reaction had fear already whirling in her mind. ‘Where are Cece and Phil?’ she thought and frantically turned to see them both still in the group of kids, oblivious still with what was forming at the head of the town.  
  
“Hey I know you,” she heard a gruff voice say and she tried to look over her husband’s shoulder to see the source, silently cursing her short legs.  
  
“Halpert, isn’t it?” Her stomach dropped. Oh God, the man meant Jim. She saw the muscles in his back and shoulders tense, something no one likely noticed, but she was acutely sensitive to him.  
  
“Holy shit, you weren’t being honest, man. There are quite a few people around here. I’m glad we decided to come this way. This looks like quite a party,” the gruff sounding voice continued.  
  
“Are you the leader here?” The question clearly directed at Jim.  
  
“No,” he replied firmly.  
  
Timidly, Nicolas spoke up, “There is no leader. This is a trading meet up for the local farms." Jim grimaced slightly at his confession, allowing Mac to know there was a lack of leadership was a foolish move.  
  
“Well, then we would love to join you all!”  
  
Several of the men shifted nervously but Jim was stoic. “We are just finishing up, it’s late.”  
  
There were several beats of silence. “Is that a fact?” An edge to the man’s voice.  
  
Cece walked up behind Pam with her brother’s hand in hers.  
  
“Mom, what’s happening?” she whispered.  
  
Pam didn’t answer her but instead pushed them behind her motioning to be quiet. She pulled the pistol from behind her back and let it hang at her side.  
  
“Erin,” she whispered, “if things start to go bad, I need you to take our children back to the farm for me. Promise me you’ll do it. You know the short cut through the woods, right?”  
  
Erin shook her head hard, eyes wide and fear painted on her face.  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving Jim,” Pam stared with determination through the small space between Jim and Brian’s arms.  
  
“I’m really disappointed Halpert, that you wanted to keep all this to yourself,” the man gestured at the town and continued “That’s not very neighborly and here I thought you were a nice guy.” He was clearly trying to bait him but Jim didn’t bite.  
  
“What do you say, boys? I think we should make ourselves at home around here.” His false pleasantness causing a sick feeling to stir in Pam's stomach.  
  
Several of the men standing behind him nodded in agreement. One red-headed man was licking his lips and smiling. Erin made a face and moved more behind Pete’s back in response. Without warning, one of the unwanted guests reached and grabbed a mason jar out of an older man’s hand who was standing nearby. The man lost his grip and the glass went crashing to the ground with a loud pop. Instantly, guns went up in all directions and the sound of cocking weapons filled Pam’s ears. Jim had pulled one his guns from its holster strapped to his thigh and had it aimed directly at the man's chest.  
  
Nicolas put his hands up trying to calm the tension that was strung tight, “Woah, everybody calm down! There is no need for this!”  
  
He ignored him, all his attention on Jim. “This is the second time you’ve held a gun on me, Halpert, plan on actually following through or what?”  
  
“The idea has crossed my mind,” Jim said coldly.  
  
The moment of tension lingered but he lowered his weapon and his men followed his lead. “Not tonight though. That would be rude of us.”  
  
There was a ripple effect of lowered weapons but Jim was the last, reluctantly holstering it.  
  
“Well, since this seems to be over we will head out I guess. We’ll hit the next one.” He smiled a fake, pandering smile at the faces around him.  
  
“That’s a promise.” He leveled his stare at Jim. Pam let out the breath she had been holding, softly placing her hand on Jim’s back, as the tall, blond man and his men turned and faded into the blackness of the unlit road.  
  
______________

  
After the night of the meetup, there was a disquiet felt among everyone and efforts to create a barrier between the farm and the outside began in earnest. They fortified the perimeter, leaving the outer fields and forests open but enclosing the buildings, animals, and people in. On either side of the front gate, they parked an abandoned school bus on one side and two box trucks on the other and they lined the fronts with tin and metal panels. It doubled as a lookout, allowing guards to see all the way to the main road from town. The remaining parts of the barrier were made with a hodgepodge mixture of logs, old farm equipment, fencing, or sandbags Jim had found while scavenging. They were slowly building a more permanent metal and stone wall but the temporary one served its purpose. It wasn’t impenetrable but it would slow an intruder down and kept someone from driving a truck into the front yard.  
  
“Oh, I’ve got a good one,” Brian started, his voice slightly straining as he threw several logs at a time into the bed of the truck.  
  
Brian, Jim, and Pete were loading the truck with firewood in an arranged exchange with Roger for several bags of his soybeans and an old transistor radio. Fall was coming quickly and winters in this part of the country could be harsh and since they were getting longer and colder every year, preparation for them started early. Roger only had one person to chop wood for him and his son and their farm had six men that all took turns. They had chopped plenty of wood, more than they could use in two winters, so they were willing to help a neighbor.  
  
“Oh, no...” Jim groaned.  
  
“Oh, yes,” Brian stopped his motion and reached for the water jug, “So here I am a young, impressionable college sophomore,”  
  
“You were never impressionable,” Jim added.  
  
“When mister senior, hotshot Jim walks in with this leggy blonde.”  
  
“Please stop…”  
  
Pete chuckled, “No, please continue.”  
  
Jim shot him with a look of mild irritation so he finished weakly, “Long story short, he had one too many Jäger shots and at the end of the night he ended up puking all over the poor girl there at the bar. It was hilarious.”  
  
Pete laughed, “Oh man,” and Jim groaned again, “Did she call you back?”  
  
“Uh no, and thank you, Brian. Thank you for that great walk down memory lane.” Jim added sarcastically.  
  
“Any time, man,” he laughed. “All right, we’ll get these over to him.” He jumped down from the truck, “Anything else while we are out?”  
  
“I would take an extra rifle. Mac and his guys are still out there somewhere.” Jim shut the tailgate of the old truck with a hard shove.  
  
Pete looked at him, “We haven’t seen or heard from them since the meetup and that was at least two weeks ago.”  
  
Jim reached over to where his rifle was laying on a pile of stacked wood, “I have a feeling they’re still around. Something tells me that guy doesn’t give up easily.”  
  
Brian took the rifle from him and laid it on the bench seat of the truck and hopped in.  
  
“See you in a bit,” and Jim watched them drive out the gate towards the neighboring farm.  
  
  
  
Several miles down the road, Brian took the turn that led to Roger’s farm. He looked over at Pete, who was turning the radio dial from one static channel to the next, “You know there isn’t any radio anymore, right?”  
  
“You never know, there might be someone out there putting out a signal now.”  
  
“In the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania?” Brian asked dubiously. Pete just shrugged and continued.  
  
“Hey, isn’t that Roger’s truck?” Brian noted the blue pickup pulled off on the side, slightly parked in the ditch.  
  
“Yeah, the old guy probably forgot we were coming.”  
  
They pulled their truck up behind Roger’s and stepped out, “Hey Roger!” Brian shouted towards the woods, not finding him in the cab.  
  
Brian shut the door to Roger’s truck, “This is weird. Do you think he broke down? You don’t just leave a working truck unhidden like this.”  
  
Something caught Pete’s notice in the grass and he walked a few feet beyond the front of the truck when he saw Roger’s body, “Jesus Chr—“ he pushed his fist against his mouth and gasped. Roger was laying in the tall grass, his face a bloody mess of bone and tissue, clearly killed by a shot to the face.  
  
Pete turned to look again, having regained composure, “Brian,” he said calmly, “over here.”  
  
Brian walked over, “Holy shit.” Turning away when he realized what he was looking at. He pulled his weapon and began looking around. This could very well be a trap, a distraction to get them unaware.  
  
“I wonder who did this?” He heard Pete ask from behind him, struggling to keep up with his quick recovery.  
  
“I’ll give you three guesses,” Brian reached down to check Roger’s pockets and looked around the truck again, “I don’t know why they didn’t take the truck. They must have taken his gun though.”  
  
Piercing the quiet of the forest, they heard the echo of gunfire in the distance from the direction of the house and they both stood and looked, straining to see any movement.  
  
“Fuck, they’re still here.”  
  
“What should we do?” Pete asked anxiously.  
  
“Well, we can’t take them on alone. We need to go back and get Jim and the others.”  
  
They jumped back into the truck and sped towards home. As they turned onto the main road they almost pulled right into five of Mac’s men stretched out across the road blocking their retreat. Brian brought the truck to a stop several yards away. They sat there in a standoff, the rhythmic chug of the truck's engine the only sound.  
  
Two of the men walked up to the truck, one heading to each window.  
  
“Shit. Here we go.” Brian hissed under his breath and pulled his weapon into his lap.  
  
“Howdy,” a short, heavyset man spoke as he reached Brian’s window, “we are going to need this truck.”  
  
“And your guns,” the other man spoke.  
  
“I don’t think so,” Brian replied firmly, “You are going to let us by.”  
  
“And why would we do that?”  
  
Brian hesitated for a long moment, staring hard at the man then in a swift motion that only took a millisecond, pulled his gun up and shot him in the chest, and slammed the gas. Taken by surprise, Pete pushed the man at his window back away from the truck and drew his weapon and fired, then fired on the line of men, causing them to dive for cover, creating a way for them to drive through. He turned and continued to shoot as they passed, the sounds of bullets whizzing past them and pinging off the metal.  
  
When they reached the front gate of the farm they came to a screeching halt. Meredith and her son Jake were on watch and jumped up at the sight of them.  
  
“What the hell, Brian?” Jake yelled, startled by their abrupt arrival, a cloud of dust forming around them.  
  
“Go tell Jim that Mac killed Roger and probably Wilson.”  
  


  
  
By the time Jim and the others from the area had returned, Mac’s men had disappeared with Roger’s truck and weapons. They had hit three other small groups, killed eight people, including two children, and raided their belongings taking anything of value. They brought the bodies to town, Nicolas promising to make sure they were cared for properly.  
  
Jim saw Pete sitting on the tailgate of the truck, trying to keep his hands from shaking, a haunted expression on his face and he quietly moved up beside him. Jim knew that look. He had seen it reflected on himself at one time, processing a loss of something incalculable deep inside.  
  
“The first time is pretty hard,” Jim spoke in a quiet voice, Pete looked up at him, an understanding between them.  
  
“I didn’t really eat or sleep for days, just kept replaying it in my mind. But I don’t regret it, it had to be done.” He trailed off, looking down the empty, dark street.  
  
Pete rubbed his hands down his face in reply. “Does it get easier?” he asked after a moment.  
  
Jim sighed deeply, “Yes, and no. I will do what I have to for my family. Protecting them is the only thing that matters so, I don’t hesitate or think twice about it. I can’t say that each time doesn’t eat at me a bit though.” He looked down again at the dirt of the street.  
  
“All I was thinking about was Erin and my kid and if I die what happens to them, I wasn’t thinking about how I was shooting to kill someone or if I could’ve done something differently,” Pete sighed and rubbed his hands.  
  
“That’s the weird thing about living now. Things are not complicated.” Jim glanced back at the blood-stained blankets still in the truck bed from Roger and Wilson, “I used to overthink and over analyze everything Before. Now, it’s me or them. I have to get home to Pam and the kids so...” Jim shrugged and sighed again.  
  
Jim gave him a solid smack on the shoulder, “You did what you had to. Come on, we need to get home.”


	5. For What I Am When I'm With You

Jim never thought much about dying.  
  
As a kid, you don’t have that sort of visceral awareness. You exist for the next fun thing, the next highlight. Nothing can touch you. The teenage years are much the same, except for Jim it became basketball and girls, both of them to the same extent and for their own reasons. When he became an adult, his focus shifted to college, paying rent, and then eventually, as fate would have it, the curly-haired receptionist that showed him to his desk on his first day of work. Dying was later. Dying was something old people did but as he stared across the fire at the broken middle-aged man, he couldn’t help but put himself in his shoes. Shoes, that he noted, that were little more than pieces of leather held together by tape and covered with a plastic bag. His rough, dirty beard hadn’t seen a razor for a very long time and his clothing was tattered and worn. He had quietly walked upon their campsite earning him a pair of weapons aimed at his chest until he convinced Jim and Brian that he wasn’t a threat. Pam, feeling sorry for the man that looked like he might suddenly fall over, offered him a can of beans from the considerable stash they had found by chance hidden in a tree stand. Some backwoods hunter’s forgotten snack had provided them with a week’s worth of food.  
  
“Where are you heading?” Brian asked as he watched the man peel back the lid on the can.  
  
“Nowhere.”  
  
Jim and Brian looked at each other, “Do you know this area? We are looking for a farm that belonged to the Schrute family.”  
  
The man continued with no acknowledgment that Brian had spoken, pouring the contents of the can directly into his mouth, forgoing any sort of utensil.  
  
The silence stretched on for several minutes before he set the now empty can aside and wiped his mouth on his torn sleeve, looking across the fire. Jim sat next to Pam, his arms resting on his bent, upturned knees, his posture not entirely relaxed with the presence of their guest. Cece was sound asleep with her head in Pam’s lap, her golden curls breaking free of the constraints of the knitted cap she wore, her brother’s steady breathing coming quietly from behind her where he slept.  
  
“The little girl is really pretty. You are lucky.”  
  
Pam and Jim both visibly tensed at his words, Pam’s hand ceasing its absent-minded stroking of Cece’s hair, leaning imperceptibly closer to Jim.  
  
He continued, seemingly not noticing their reaction, “My girl was pretty. My son was so tall.” His voice took on a wistful tone, his eyes losing focus, “They’re gone now but…” He stopped and Jim was sure he had finished until he started again several minutes later, “It’s just me now.”  
  
He looked up at Jim, holding his gaze with eyes that spoke of the irreparable sadness, “You can never come back.”  
  
He pulled out a small revolver causing Brian and Jim to shift nervously, the sound of Brian’s weapon leaving its holster. He set the gun in his lap, opening the chamber, spinning the wheel, “I only have one bullet. Do you have any?”  
  
Brian relaxed slightly, “No, man. We don’t have that caliber, sorry.”  
  
He shook his head ruefully, “Just as well I guess. I only need one.” He stood suddenly and they watched him intensely, unsure of what the stranger intended to do. He turned and walked into the deep black that surrounded the orange-yellow light of the fire, turning around slowly as he spoke, the faint outline of him barely visible, “My mom had a friend named Shirley Schrute. Her farm was about 10 miles southwest of here.” Without another word, he faded into the darkness.  
  
Everyone exchanged looks of disbelief over the flames. Jim opened his mouth to speak but the crack of a single shot of gunfire broke through the silence, the sound waves bouncing off the trees, echoing its deadly mantra. Pam and Larissa gasped, the children flinched. Jim and Brian both jumped to their feet at the sound but the realization hit them both simultaneously and their eyes met.  
  
Jim never thought much about dying before but he understood it now.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
There were wagons, cars, and horses scattered all over the yard, people wanting to know what to do when word had spread that Old Roger had been found murdered and that Brian and Pete had been in a gunfight with Mac’s group. Some were there out of fear and concern and some out of nosy curiosity. When Nicolas arrived, announcing that six more people had been killed, people began to panic. She didn’t want to think about Jim being out there somewhere while apparently, it was open season on locals. It was dark now and he had been gone for hours and she was beginning to have a hard time thinking of anything else. She hadn’t even seen him since this all happened. Meredith had only come back from her duty at the gate, filling her in on what had happened and relaying to Pam that Jim had ridden off with a group of local men.  
  
She was mindlessly picking up used glasses off the front porch when she heard his voice, drawing her to him. She set down the tray and looked around desperately seeking his tall frame. She moved down the stairs of the porch and began walking towards the groups in the yard when a large hand reached out and grabbed hers from behind and pulled her around.  
  
“Oh, thank God.” She threw herself at him. He held her tight for a moment until she pulled away running her hands on the sides of his face and down his arms checking for injuries.  
  
Her presence, the feel her arms, her warmth, unleashed a torrent of fear and pain and profound tenebrosity from the day that he had unknowingly suppressed. When he closed his eyes he saw the children, whose bodies were lifted into the back of a pickup truck in some sort of horrific, unending nightmare that was this world. Everything was wrong and he didn’t understand any of it. He was unsteady, off course, but she was his true north and he sought her light to navigate the darkness.  
  
“Are you okay?” He nodded but when she met his eyes, something was there that told her no. He pulled her lips to his and kissed her hard.  
  
“Jim! Jim!” A man’s voice she didn’t recognize broke through, “We need to talk. What is the plan, man? We can’t just wait like sitting ducks for these bastards.”  
  
She turned to see several faces looking at him expectantly but he was still staring at her. She turned back to him, “They need you,” she said softly with a smile.  
  
He leaned over, his warm breath on her ear, sending a shiver down her body, “I need _you._ ”  
  
He pulled back and the look in his eyes made her heartache.  
  
“I’ll be here. Always.”  
  
  
Plans had been set in motion. In response to the unprecedented threat from Mac and others, they decided to consolidate several of the smaller homesteads making it easier to defend more people. They overwhelmingly wanted to come to the farm, which was now being seen as a stronghold of security in the area. Several groups planned on returning in the morning, living in tents on the property until new buildings could be built. Angela reluctantly agreed, Jim convincing her that more people meant more fighters defending the farm.  
  
It had been at least two more hours before she made it to their room. After cleaning up and getting the kids into bed, she just needed to get off her feet. She placed another log on the fire in the fireplace, the evenings getting markedly colder now. She stripped down and put an old flannel shirt on. Being surrounded by Jim’s scent made her feel close to him and she needed that tonight. She felt his inquietude as clear as if he was there, her worry winding its way into every mundane task she went about. Desperately wanting to talk to him and find the calming of her soul his nearness brought, she opened their door impatiently, hearing voices downstairs. Not finding his familiar timbre and cadence among the variety of sounds drifting upstairs, she closed the door with a sigh. She went to unclasp her necklace, placing it on the low dresser. She stood there twirling the pendant between her fingers, watching it shimmer in the light of the fireplace, lost in the memory of the Christmas that Jim gave it to her that felt like a lifetime ago. The Christmas before they were married. She closed her eyes and could almost hear Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’ playing on the CD player, the taste of hot chocolate on his lips as they made love on a blanket on the floor in front of the TV playing the fake fireplace illuminating the room. She was so absorbed in her inner thoughts, she didn’t hear him push the door closed and come up behind her quickly.  
  
His arms wrapped around her, “Hey—“ she didn’t get a chance to finish as he spun her around and plunged his mouth on hers, insistent and hot. His hard body pressing her softness against the dresser at her back. Instantly breathless, his lips moved hungrily down her face to her neck, his hands quickly undoing the buttons on her flannel shirt. He pushed it off her shoulders, discovering she had nothing on underneath, leaning back taking her in. The longing look he had made her feel cherished and loved, as it always did, despite the desperation she saw accompanying it now.  
  
He wanted nothing more than to find refuge and solace in her body, in her. He looked into her eyes, speaking reverently, almost like a prayer, “God, I need you.”  
  
His lips barely getting out the last word before his tongue was swimming in her mouth again. Suddenly he reached under her and lifted her onto the dresser, pushing things aside. Distantly, she heard glass jars and books falling to the floor, and she absently thought that they were being loud and someone would hear them until he situated himself between her legs and that thought was gone. She reached the edge of his shirt and pulled it off trying to match his urgency. His large, talented hands were everywhere, on her breasts, her back, in her hair that he then gently pulled back to give him access to her throat, his beard scraping deliciously against her skin. His hand reached down between them and he grunted in frustration at her panties in his way. He wasted no time sliding his hands up her hips, grabbing the offending clothing and slipping it down and off her legs in one smooth motion. She answered with a quiet moan as his fingers found their way back, this time uninhibited.  
  
She worked his belt, hearing his pants drop to the floor. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her to the edge of the dresser and without hesitation sank himself into her in one long stroke causing her to gasp into his mouth.  
  
“Did I…?” his eyes finishing the question for his voice. Deep, instinctive concern for her breaking through the frantic spell of lust that had him.  
  
“I’m okay, baby.” She brought her hand to his face, her thumb stroking across his lips, “I’m okay.”  
  
He leaned into her hand, closing his eyes giving into the heat of her and moving. She wrapped her legs behind him and the change in angle made him go impossibly deeper. His face was buried in her shoulder repeating loving words into her skin as he took what he needed from her and she willingly gave it. Devouring and being consumed by each other in equal measure. She clung to him until he finally stilled, and he took a long, ragged breath. His lips slid down the column of her neck murmuring a string of ‘I love yous’ mixed with her name. She could feel his heartbeat pounding against her chest and she stroked his damp back, putting gentle kisses to his ear.  
  
Without a word, he picked her up and laid her on the bed, removing the rest of his clothes, pulling the covers over their legs. He settled on his propped up elbow, running his hand softly over the swell of her body that contained their child.  
  
She moved her hands to his hair, her fingernails gently stroking at his temple for several minutes before she spoke, “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”  
  
He turned to look up at her, his hair going in all directions, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, “I’m sorry that was…”  
  
“I was going to use the word ‘intense’.”  
  
Embarrassed, he groaned into her skin, followed by a kiss in the same spot in the center of her palm. “I’m sorry. Today was...I just needed to feel you.” She could tell he was hesitating.  
  
“Tell me,” she said softly.  
  
He rolled on his back taking her hand with him, clutching it to his chest, not wanting to lose the physical connection to her. He closed his eyes searching for the words, “Everything is just so dark and terrible it’s…,” he took a deep breath, “The darkness just takes you over and changes you. When I’m with you, in you, it all goes away and I don’t feel the darkness anymore I just feel you. All around me. It keeps me sane I guess. I know that sounds stupid, I’m sure.”  
  
He sounded so vulnerable that it terrified her and warmed her to the bone in the same degree. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” she replied gently. She turned towards him and stroked his hair with her free hand, understanding implicitly, “I just love you.” She cherished that she could take care of him this way. He had always taken care of her, even before they were together, it was part of who he was. Any time she was able to return to him what he had given to her, she reveled in it.  
  
“You know, Brian and I see some awful things while we are on runs. Bodies of people killed and left to the animals, bloody baby carriers, people who decided it was too much and ended it themselves.” He sighed, his fingers slowly lacing through hers in endless motion. “The saddest ones, for me, are the people who died all alone. There was this one a few weeks ago, I pulled back this blanket on a bed thinking we could salvage the mattress but there was a decomposed body on it. It looked like they died in their sleep or starved, no one around to even move the body. It was so quiet in that room. Just the wind. I can’t imagine how lonely that was. It reminded me of the man that night on the road.” He continued to stroke his fingers through hers, miles away in his thoughts. She knew he kept so much from her of what he had seen, to protect her from the horror of it, but she wished he wouldn’t. She wanted to share that burden with him.  
  
“It was bad today. They killed two kids, Pam. A fifteen-year-old boy trying to defend his little brother. How do you murder children? I just don’t…” he grimaced then looked over at her, “Roger and his son didn’t deserve that, either. I don’t know what we are going to do about these guys. Everyone expects me to have some sort of answer. I’m pretty sure we killed two of them today and that won’t be the end of it. Pete took it pretty hard. I guess he’s never had to kill anyone before.”  
  
She sighed, tears forming in her eyes both for the innocent and for his pain, all the things he has had to face, and the parts of him gone for good. “I’m sorry,” barely above a whisper. “I know you’ll think of something. You always do.”  
  
  
  
She felt his soft, rhythmic breathing against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open to see his relaxed face a few inches from hers, morning sunlight bathing their bed in warmth. With the ever-present lines of worry gone, he looked years younger. She reached up and gently brushed aside the messy hair on his forehead.  
  
“He sleeps.” She whispered to herself, her heart ached that he never got the rest he so desperately needed.  
  
They had made love two more times that night before he had exhausted himself, finally succumbing to sleep. The last time was slow and languid, worshipping each other’s body wordlessly with sighs and gasps in the stillness of the night. She was delightfully sore and stretched against him, his long, warm body running the length of her and his arm possessively draped over her waist. Their legs were tangled together, her feminine smooth in contrast to his masculine rough. She could hear voices and movement downstairs and knew she should get up and tend to the needs of the children but she wanted to protect this quiet moment, protect him, and let him sleep.  
  
Unfortunately, their child was pushing on her bladder and she reluctantly tried to slip out of bed. His arm instinctively tightened around her.  
  
“Don’t leave.” His voice thick with sleep and slightly muffled by the pillow, his eyes still closed.  
  
“I’m sorry I woke you.”  
  
He didn’t seem too bothered as he shifted her slightly on top of him and his now freed hands began to roam her body.  
  
“I need to go get the kids’ breakfast,” she muttered unconvincingly as he gently palmed her breast. His arousal insistent against her thigh.  
  
“This will only take a minute, I promise,” he mumbled as he rolled her underneath him.  
  
“Mmm-hmm.” She hummed her acquiesce with a smile, sliding her knee up and opening for him as he slid his hand under her, savoring his warm, male weight pushing her into the mattress.  
  
A loud knock jolted them both.  
  
“Jim! There is someone here to see you. Wake up, man.”  
  
“Oh, God...” He dropped his face between her breasts mumbling, “Go away.”  
  
Another knock, “I know Pam must be awake! Pam, are you in there?”  
  
“Where else would I be?” she whispered humorously. “Do you think if we’re real quiet they’ll think we’re gone?”  
  
Jim snorted and lifted his head, “I’ll be down in a minute!”  
  
With a frustrated groan, he pushed off her and went to get dressed.  
  
He was pulling on his jeans and a knock came again. Exasperated, he strode toward the door, no shirt and belt still undone, glancing towards Pam on the way to ensure she was adequately covered.  
  
“Relax! I said I was coming.” He opened the door to find a worried Brian. He glanced over Jim’s shoulder seeing Pam sitting on the edge of the bed, a sheet wrapped tightly around her, looking well and thoroughly loved. He stared and blushed, realization suddenly hitting him about what he likely interrupted.  
  
“Sorry, Pam,” Brian muttered.  
  
Jim finished buckling his belt but stepped closer to the door, blocking the view with his body, wanting to pull Brian’s attention away from her, “What’s going on?”  
  
“Oh, sorry, yeah. The Miller widow is here. She said two of her children have been kidnapped and she thinks it’s Mac.”  
  


  
By the time Pam had gotten dressed and made it downstairs, search parties for the two children had been organized.  
  
“What makes you think it was Mac?” Jim asked the flustered woman standing in the living room. She was flanked by a teenage boy and an old man, Pam assumed was a relative.  
  
“I saw a couple of guys in an old blue pickup on the dirt road that our road turns off at. It looked like they were hunting deer. There was already a carcass tied to the hood.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve.  
  
Jim glanced at Pete, “We should go and try and find those guys and see if they know anything.” Pete nodded and walked off to grab some weapons. “Everybody else, start looking in the woods between here and your place. You guys should go home and wait in case they go home first. Send us word if you find them. No one needs to be out alone unnecessarily.”  
  
Everyone scattered with their assignments. Jim went over to Pam and with a quick kiss, he was gone again.  
  
  
  
Pete and Jim made their way down the long curvy two-lane road through the woods towards the Miller homestead.  
  
“God, I hope these kids just got lost and these guys have nothing to do with it.” Jim rubbed his face, “that’s a whole new level of evil.”  
  
He looked over cautiously at Pete. “How are you doing?”  
  
“I asked Erin to marry me last night and she said yes. After everything…” he shook his head, “I just realized ‘What the hell am I waiting for?’” A smile pulled at his lips.  
  
Jim genuinely smiled and reached over to smack Pete on the shoulder, “That’s awesome, man, congratulations.”  
  
“Yeah.” Pete’s face was grinning from ear to ear now.  
  
They rode in silent companionship for several minutes when Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rid himself of the exhaustion he felt when he stopped moving.  
  
Pulled from his thoughts Pete looked over at this, “You alright, man?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”  
  
“I bet you are.”  
  
Jim glanced over at him with a confused smirk, “What?”  
  
“Let’s just say we live in an old house and our room is right next to yours. Furniture against a wall is not quiet,” he looked over and smiled at Jim’s wide eyes and horrified expression.  
  
Jim rubbed his hand down his face, embarrassed, “Oh God, sorry. I guess we were kind of loud.”  
  
Pete just chuckled, “Don’t worry about it, man. Just next time pick a different wall.”  
  
  
  
They found the truck Mrs. Miller spoke about easily, still in the same place, a dead deer still strapped to the hood. They parked a hundred yards away and cautiously stepped out, Jim reaching back into the bed of the truck and grabbing his rifle. As they passed the abandoned blue truck, they noticed empty bottles and shotgun casings carelessly scattered around and they could hear deep, male voices coming from the path going into the woods. Jim loaded a bullet into the chamber.  
  
With the voices getting closer, Jim and Pete exchanged looks and decided to just wait for them at the head of the trail. As soon as the two men saw them they froze.  
  
"Hey assholes, that fucking deer is ours!" The taller of the two men shouted and staggered a bit. They looked similar to how all Mac’s men had looked that Jim had seen up to this point; dirty, rough, and unkempt.  
  
"Yeah, we killed it, we claim it," the other man added unnecessarily, slurring his words.  
  
"Oh wonderful, they're wasted," Jim whispered to Pete dryly.  
  
"We don't want your deer," Jim raised his voice so they could hear him over the distance, "we just had a question."  
  
At that, they both started towards them and Jim and Pete glanced cautiously at each other.  
  
"We're out of liquor too so you can't have that either." Both the drunk men started laughing.  
  
Jim ignored them, "We are looking for a couple of kids that went missing. Have you seen any kids out here?"  
  
"Kids? Nah. You got to watch those little bastards. They don't last long out here." The tall man set his gun on the hood of his truck clumsily.  
  
"Especially if they're cute," the other man added.  
  
"You are one sick fuck, you know that Carlos?"  
  
"What? Not me! You know that people do that! We saw them at Tent City—“  
  
"Just shut up!" The taller man shot 'Carlos' a warning look and he immediately stopped.  
  
Jim and Pete stood there watching their exchange in disgust. He didn't want to even begin to imagine what this man Carlos was talking about.  
  
The tall man turned to Jim, "No kiddies, just fucking squirrels and one skinny deer."  
  
Jim just nodded not trusting his voice if he allowed himself to say what he wanted to these repulsive men. Wordlessly, he and Pete returned to their truck.  
  
"They didn't take them. They can barely walk and I don't think they would have noticed them," Jim spoke as he started the engine. "Clearly some of Mac's men come from Tent City and they don't want us to know that," he added.  
  
"I wonder why?" Pete asked looking out the window in thought.  
  
"I have no idea but I heard stories that it is a rough place."  
  
"Seems like they would have been right at home."  
  
"Exactly. It makes you wonder why guys like that would leave a place like that."  
  
Jim couldn't help but think that the reason was something far worse than he could come up with and now they were here, lurking around where he lived, mere miles from where Pam and Cece and Phil slept.  
  
He had an overwhelming urge to flee with them. Taking his family somewhere far from here and these horrible people. His mind contemplated where they could go that had shelter, food, and supplies. His thoughts kept returning to the irrefutable fact that they had it very good at the farm. These kinds of people would always be coming for what they had but this was the safest place they could be.  
  
No, he thought resolutely, determination wrapping around every fiber of his being, he would stay and he would fight.  
  
He would fight for their home.


	6. Monsters are like Nightmares, You Just Have to Wake Up to Survive

They had searched all day finding no trace of the two children. One by one, groups came back to the farm, heads hanging and spirits dampened. The sun had begun to set as Pam pulled the last of the dried clothes off the line, bringing them back to the house when she saw Brian crossing the yard.

She walked quickly in his direction. “Brian! Any news?”

“No, sorry. It seems like we covered the whole damn county. Jeff went with the teenage brother to an aunt’s house, or at least where she used to live, to see if they managed to get that far. I doubt it though.” He rubbed his shoulder, working out a sore muscle. “Jim’s still out there, but I don’t know where exactly but Pete’s with him. I know that was your next question.”

“You know me well.” She looked down, pushing the laundry basket slightly with the toe of her hiking boot needlessly. “I am always thankful for what you’ve done for him…us. You’ve saved his life more times than I can count.“

“Eh, he’s saved mine.” Brian waved his hand dismissively, followed by wiping it down the front of his dirty pants.

“It’s more than that,” she hesitated. Brian looked at her questioningly so she continued, “It’s just…I know he misses his brothers sometimes; his family was close.”

“I remember,” he interjected with a nod, “Halpert dinners were always crazy.”

“Yes, yes they were. I’m just glad he has you.”

Brian rubbed his face and looked off over the pasture past the tree line, “Well, I didn’t grow up with my siblings; I don’t even talk with them. Just me and my dad. So, since college, Jim has kind of been my brother in a way.”

“I consider you family now too.”

“Does that mean I can call you ’Sis’?” His smirk gave him away.

“God, no,” she deadpanned.

He smiled in return, “I’m going to go clean up.”

“Yeah, there is dinner in the kitchen for you.” She laid her hand gently on his shoulder as she walked away.

____________

In the quiet stillness of the night, she felt the bed give way, and his strong arm wind effortlessly over her waist. Even in her sleepy haze, she knew it was him and not some stranger entering her bed; the familiar pressure and give of his fingers as they slid across the skin of her belly that had become revealed in her sleep. She felt the solidness of his chest to her back and the way his breath came warm and comforting against her neck as he sighed down into the blankets. He smelled of smoke and burnt wood, no doubt from the torch he had been carrying for hours, and something undeniably Jim. She nestled back against him and hummed, allowing him to smooth his hands across her belly a moment longer, feeling warm and protected.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he returned deep with exhaustion, sighing again into her hair. She didn’t ask and he didn’t need to tell her that they had come up empty-handed. His hand continued to stroke her body pushing her shirt further up as he went when he felt an unfamiliar form in front of her and he stopped suddenly. Blindly, his hand softy patted over its shape until it landed on the unruly mop of brown hair of his son’s head.

“Nightmare?”

“He hasn’t had one in so long, so I let him sleep in here. Do you want to put him back in his bed?” Her whisper followed her head as she turned it slightly in his direction.

“No, let him sleep.”

A soft sigh escaped her as she felt the heaviness of the day ease momentarily, enjoying the feeling of her family together, safe. She didn’t often think of life on the road with anything other than emptiness and fear but one thing she missed was this. The physical closeness of her children and Jim at night made it bearable. The world was dying around her but the feeling of their bodies surrounding her, alive and warm, was all she needed. The body breathing steadily in front her was larger now than it had been then and Cece was down the hall but feeling gripping her heart now was the same. Jim’s arm tightened around hers, both of them sinking further into the covers. Sleep began to overtake her again, lapping at her consciousness like waves on a sandy beach, each pass of the tide pulling her further under.

________________

Pam looked over Cece’s shoulder at her math workbook, “No, Cece the answer would be 87. You have to carry to the next column, remember?”

“Ugh, I hate math,” Cece mumbled under her breath, grabbing her eraser with vengeance.

Pam smiled as she wiped off the last of the dishes when she heard a commotion outside and Phillip Schrute crying hard. He was out in the yard with Angela, sobbing in her shirt.

“I was just at the edge of the yard! I didn’t go in the woods like you told me, Ma! He saw a rabbit and took off. Bandit knows better than to go in the woods!” His sobbing returned even harder.

“He’ll come back, Phillip. He will.” Angela tried to calm her son but he was beside himself.

“I want to go look for him!” Several people had joined them in the yard at this point.

“No Phillip, it’s going to be dark in about 10 minutes. It’s too late, we’ll look in the morning.”

“What if the mountain lion gets him?” he sobbed.

Phil Halpert couldn’t help himself, “I thought you didn’t believe there was a mountain lion?” Shades of his father showing in his tone.

“Shut up, Phil!” Phillip shrieked.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go walk around the property and see if I see him.” Jeff offered.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeffl!”

Jeff smiled, “Come on buddy, let’s get a lantern first.”

Pam had told Phil to finish his chores and get ready for bed when she noticed Jim grabbing a lantern off the porch. She walked over to him quickly.

“Where are you going at this hour?” She smiled knowing exactly what his answer would be. He shrugged slightly and returned her smile. Kids and dogs were Jim’s soft spot.

“Well, lucky for you I’m in the mood for a walk.”

“You don’t need to go with me.”

“Yes, I do. I need to make sure you don’t bring back any extra stray animals. The last thing we need around here is another creature to care for like a raccoon or hedgehog or something. God knows your son is just like you and we’d never be able to let it go.” Her eyes sparkled with humor and love for the two men in her life.

He chuckled as they started towards the woods.

“A hedgehog would be kind of cool, Beesly.”

“Don’t start,” she rolled her eyes and he laughed.

They had ventured to the edge of the property along the river. The nocturnal animals making their presence known; the owls and crickets communicating loudly among the trees. The breeze had picked up, bringing a chill to the air as Pam pulled the edges of her jacket closer together to ward off the cold. The moon was still low in the sky, making it entirely too dark to see much beyond the yellow light of the lantern.

“I don’t think Bandit is out here,” Pam sighed.

Jim stepped over a giant log and turned to offer her a hand. “Yeah, he’s probably already back under the porch laughing at us. Let’s get home before I have to carry you.”

“Are you saying I’m heavy, Halpert?”

He chuckled, “No, I’m saying I’m weak. There’s a difference.”

She held up the lantern and squinted her skepticism at him. Just as she took a step she felt something soft give way under her foot and instinct made her transfer her weight to avoid it and she fell into Jim slightly, grabbing his thick shirt to balance herself.

“What in the world?” She brought the lantern light down to her feet, “Oh my God. Oh no—”

The dog was clearly dead, rather recently, and had been bleeding out from a wound in his chest. Blood soaked the ground where she stood and she took a step back, disgusted at the overwhelming smell of iron stinging her nose. She bumped into Jim again realizing that he hadn’t said anything. She looked up and saw him staring directly into the barrel of a rifle just inches from his face.

“Drop your weapons.” The man holding the gun to him said slowly.

Another man emerged from the shadows, “Nice and slow.”

Jim tilted his head and grimaced, slowly reaching into his left hostler and placed the gun on the ground in front of him. Giving up his weapon made him feel naked and vulnerable but with a gun aimed at Pam, he didn’t have a choice.

“What about you, sweetheart?”

She pulled the pistol out from behind her that was in her waistband and set it next to Jim’s.

“Nice.” The first man started to pat down Jim, a flicker of recognition on his face. “Wait, I know you. You are that asshole with the truck.”

“There are a lot of assholes around here, you might have me mistaken for someone else.” Jim’s attention drawn to the other man now patting down Pam.

He moved his hands up the outsides of her legs and up her waist lingering longer than necessary. She kept an expression of indifference, looking past him but when he got up to her face he looked her in the eyes. When she didn’t automatically look back he spoke.

“Hello there.” She brought her eyes to meet his, staring back in cold defiance. “What? No smile for me?” She felt his stale breath on her face but kept her icy gaze, daring him.

Jim’s jaw clenched. “Why are you here? This is Schrute property and I sure as hell know your camp isn’t near here.” Jim had regular patrols around the property on horseback to keep an eye on things beyond the inner barrier. He didn’t know where they were camped but it wasn’t here.

“We found ourselves a nice new place. What’ya say we go take a look? I know someone who would love to talk with you.” He shoved Jim in the direction they came from but instead of walking on, he resisted, grabbing Pam’s hand, pulling her in front of him before he followed.

He realized quickly where they were being taken, old Roger’s barn, or what used to be his barn. Its floor was completely cleaned out but it still had the faint smell of animals. A million scenarios about his circumstances were running through Jim’s mind and none of them were good. It was quite literally his worst nightmare. He was now unarmed with no backup, the guys didn’t even know where they were, and his pregnant wife was here with him in a dirty old barn surrounded by four very nasty looking men.

“Mac will be here soon. He wanted to talk to you again. Lucky we happened to find you.” The man he now remembered as Johnny stepped in front of Jim, trying to project some authority, crossing his arms and staring hard. He could feel Pam’s hand clutching the back of his shirt, her fist in a death grip right above is jeans as she stood slightly behind his shoulder. He didn’t dare look at her and get distracted, he had to stay focused on the threat that was all around them.

“I knew you was full of shit when we met you that day.” Johnny finally spoke again, “Truck, nice clean clothes…wedding ring.” He drew out the last two words in a way that made the man to Jim’s left snicker.

Jim could see him step closer out of his peripheral vision but kept his eyes on Johnny.

“You know the world don’t work now the way it did before. Guys like you don’t get all fun while grunts like us work our asses off for nothing. Drive them nice cars and be with them fancy women.” He took another step closer and lowered his voice, “It’s all fair now.”

He acknowledged Pam for the first time, “Hey sweetheart,” his eyes raking down her body lewdly, “You want to go up to the house and get more comfortable? It’s a nice place and we are very friendly.” There was a chorus of snickering all around them. Pam’s grip on his shirt tightened and he felt the heat of her body inch closer to him.

Jim’s voice came low and venomous through his clenched jaw, “She’s not going anywhere.”

He looked back at Jim, his eyes challenging. “See, you don’t get to call the shots anymore.” Without warning, he sucker-punched Jim hard in the stomach. Stars flashed in Jim’s vision as all the air left his lungs in a rush, he doubled over but stayed planted firmly, ‘Here we go.’ he thought to himself as he swung back up and connected his fist to the guy’s ugly face as hard as he could. Johnny recovered quickly and returned one to Jim. This time Jim was ready and sent the man flying with his punch feeling something crack beneath his knuckles. He saw the blood splatter across the floor of the barn and Johnny fall to the ground. Before he could think about whether it was his blood or not, he felt two sets of meaty arms pulling his away from his body. A panicked feeling washed over him when he no longer felt Pam at his back while he struggled against the two large men holding him in place.

He frantically whipped his head around searching for her when he spotted her punching the man holding his right arm for all she was worth, her face red with anger, “Let him go you asshole!”

Suddenly she was gone with a scream and he twisted further in the grasp of his captors to see her being grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground by the fourth man who had been silent behind them the entire time.

“Shhh, there now girly-girl, fighting makes it worse.” He whispered loudly against her cheek while she struggled against him, his hands taking liberties that weren’t his.

That was all it took. With strength he didn’t know he possessed, he head-butted the man to his left, knocking him against the railroad tie holding up the second floor of the barn so hard he fell to the ground with a thud. He spun around and swung at the other man with all his strength and he staggered backward, stunned and gripping his nose. Jim immediately turned towards Pam just in time to see her open her mouth and bite the man’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

With a yelp he let her go, “You bitch! I’m bleeding!” and in one fluid motion, his arm went back.

Jim saw what happened next in sickening slow motion and helpless dread filled him as he scrambled to close the distance between him and her. The man’s hand came in contact with Pam’s face and knocked her forcefully against the barn wall. A second too late, the full impact of Jim’s body slammed into the man and pinned him to the ground where he began to lay punch after punch to the man’s face; expletives and pure hate flying out of him in a way it had never before in his life. Shaken from his anger he looked down at the body below him, completely covered in blood and unrecognizable. He jumped up and staggered back reaching for her. She looked like a small pile of clothing and curly hair next to the wall. Despite his adrenaline and exertion causing labored breaths from his lungs, her stillness sucked the air out of the room.

'No no no no no' beat like a mantra over the blood rushing in his ears. He gently pulled the hair back from her face with his bloody hands and she moaned with closed eyes. She was breathing and now he could. He exhaled and thanked God along with whoever else was listening; sweeping her seemingly near-weightless body up in his arms.

“Well, it seems like I missed another party. I’ve got to stop making a habit of that.” He heard Mac’s voice as he turned around with an unconscious Pam in his arms. He was standing there flanked by two more men.

Mac studied the scene before him, three of his men groaning and struggling to stand and one laying motionless and a bloody man with palatable rage rolling off him, standing in the middle holding a small body.

“Easy there, tough guy,” He looked down at Pam’s limp form without emotion, “This must be your woman. I remember seeing her. You should have introduced us the other night.” Jim tilted his head at him warningly.

Unfazed, he moved on to business, “Your boys killed two of my men the other day and that just doesn’t sit right with me, Halpert.”

“I think you have that the other way around,” Jim shook his head at the audacity.

He shrugged slightly, a smile pulling at his blonde beard. “Well, perhaps that’s a technicality but not everyone was walking away that day regardless.”

“Is that how you sleep at night after murdering children?”

Mac just shrugged again.

Pam moved slightly in his arms. He didn’t look down at her but instead pulled her closer to him.

“You might not be very willing to share, but I can tell you aren’t stupid. Pissing me off would be stupid.”

“You don’t know anything about me. This is not your land. You killed them and stole it. You are nothing more than a thief and a murdering thug,” Jim said bitterly.

Ignoring the accusation, “I know a lot about you. I know where you live now. I know you have M4s and probably a lot more where that came from. You have enough food that you trade it,” he glanced at the motionless Pam, “and obviously some women over there. What else are you hiding at that farm, Halpert?”

“We are leaving,” Jim said in a way that was a statement of fact.

The two men on either side of Mac made a move forward but he motioned his hand to stop them, “Let him go. I know where to find him.”

Jim began to move toward the open door of the barn and Mac spoke at his retreating figure, “Oh and Halpert, you owe me for those two men. Just remember that.”

Jim turned and disappeared into the ink-black of the woods.


	7. If Pain Must Come, May it Come Quickly

Her parents had taken her and her sister one summer to the Jersey Shore. To her ten-year-old self, it was mesmerizing; the sounds and smells of the boardwalk baked into her memory by the blistering July sun. She had told Penny to watch her as she swam out beyond the waves, laying on her back. The saltwater giving her more buoyancy as she stared up into the blue sky and floated in the cool ocean water; the sounds giving way to the hollow echo underwater as her ears went under its surface. She felt like that now, floating and weightless, her consciousness drifting back to the present.  
  
She heard his breathing first, knowing instinctively it was him, then the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under his footsteps. She felt his arms, strong and solid under her knees and shoulders, holding her to him. The when and where were still muddy as her mind scrambled to put the pieces into place but his arms, that she was sure of.  
  
The biting realization of pain was next. Oh God her head hurt and the left side of her face was throbbing.  
  
“Jim?”  
  
She felt him stop and lower her to the ground, leaning her gently against a large tree.  
  
“Hey, hey, you’re awake.” He ducked down to meet her eye line, concern written in his eyes and across his furrowed forehead, gently tucking her hair behind her ears, “How do you feel?”  
  
“What happened to you?” She reached up to his left eyebrow where it was split and bleeding. He shook his head and looked down pulling her hand down with it and her eyes widened “Oh my God, your hands Jim!” The blood looked deep black in the moonlight and they were covered.  
  
He shook her concern off again, “I’m fine, how does your head feel?”  
  
“It hurts. I’m dizzy.” Lifting her palm to her scalp and wincing, “What the hell happened?”  
  
A twig snapped in the distance and Jim was instantly on alert again, scanning the woods in every direction. His body thrummed with the need to get her out of there.  
  
“Let’s go. Can you walk?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
He lifted her, his arm wrapping around her as they started. Walking through the heavy underbrush wasn’t easy, fallen logs and thorny vines littered the old foot trail. She struggled, leaning heavily into Jim’s side. They had been walking for about ten minutes when Pam tripped and her knees gave way.  
  
“Jim, can we rest for a minute? I’m getting dizzy again.”  
  
Wordlessly, he bent down and hooked his arms under her knees and shoulders again and kept walking, his long stride covering more ground now. She was too tired and confused to argue as she was still trying to get a grip on what had happened and where the hell they were but her mind couldn’t gain purchase. She looked up at him; a dark bruise above his eye beginning to become visible even in the dim light of the moon.  
  
“Where are we?” her voice felt loud in her own ears.  
  
He slowed and turned, looking behind them but not down at her when he spoke, “The woods between Roger’s place and the Farm.”  
  
“Why? God, why can’t I remember anything?” She could feel the tension and adrenaline rolling off of him and it made her anxious.  
  
He shifted her weight slightly, “You hit the barn wall hard. You passed out so I think you have a concussion.”  
  
Her hands immediately went to her belly, “How? Oh God, the baby.”  
  
She saw the muscles in his jaw tense before he turned to check behind them again, “I know. I’m taking you straight to Larissa and I’ll send someone for Dr. Brooks.”  
  
The warm yellow glow of the house pulled her eyes from his face and she saw Meredith sitting on the front steps. She stood suddenly when she saw them emerge out of the woods, “Jim? Jesus, what’s going on?”  
  
  
____________  
  
  
  
Their room felt eerily quiet after all the commotion of the last couple of hours still ringing in her ears. She had finally convinced him to let her clean him up after Larissa had determined there were no broken bones in his hands, just several severely busted knuckles and instructions to keep Pam awake for several more hours. Dr. Brooks, who was now sleeping soundly on the couch in the study, determined that the baby was fine, its heartbeat strong. Jim had set up a rotating watch of the main house, which helped everyone relax enough to go to bed.  
  
Pam glanced up at her husband sitting across from her at the small wooden table, barely large enough for them both; their knees resting against each other under its narrow surface. The neglected fire was fading in the fireplace but the room retained its heat. She dipped the rag into the basin of warm water, twisting it tightly and wiping the dried blood from his hands, gingerly wrapping them. She could feel his eyes on her as she worked. He flinched and hissed as she pulled the wrap around his right hand, tied it, and looked up at him.  
  
“Sorry,” she said quietly. ”There. One down, one to go.”  
  
He brought his bandaged hand up to the corner of her mouth where a bruise and cut had fully formed a swollen lump. She pulled away slightly in pain and he grimaced.  
  
“I’m going to kill him.”  
  
She grabbed his face, “Hey, listen to me. Don’t do this. Don’t go away to that dark place again.”  
  
He looked at her for a long moment contemplating how it should be more unnerving that she knows him better than he knows himself.  
  
“I know you.” She said matter of factly, echoing his thoughts. A rueful smile pulled at his lips before the wave of regret washed over him again watching her tongue slip out and gingerly swipe at the busted corner of her mouth.  
  
“Pam, I’m so sorry-“  
  
She put her finger to his lips, “Don’t you dare. None of this was your fault.”  
  
“Well, it kind of was. We never should have gone after that damn dog,” He said dryly.  
  
Her expression softened, squeezing his fingers slightly to get him to look at her.  
  
“Promise me you won’t do anything. It is not worth it. Please.”  
  
He sighed softly, glancing up at her and quickly returning to staring at his hand, of course, he was going to promise her. He could never deny her anything, “I won’t.”  
  
Her small, wet hand reached for his before taking the rag and submerging it into the basin, wringing it out thoroughly. “Anyway, this is far worse,” motioning to his hand as she gently began working it over the dried blood, careful to avoid the open wound. “Besides, I’ll survive,” she shrugged, “It’s not like I haven’t bef—“ She stopped herself, realizing where her train of thought was going. His shocked eyes shot up, expecting an explanation. She closed hers knowing now it was too late to back out.  
  
“Roy. Once. And he was really, really drunk.”  
  
“God, Pam, there is no excuse,” he said cold and quick, anger in his eyes. “Ever.”  
  
She hadn’t uttered that name in years. It was all she needed to say about that dark time she had locked away. As much as she told Jim everything, she didn’t think she could ever tell him that _he_ was actually the reason for their argument that night. Roy’s insecure jealousy, her never-ending defense of her ‘friendship’ with Jim and alcohol had made a volatile combination.  
  
He shook his head and his eyes now becoming damp with emotion, “Why did you never tell me?”  
  
“I was ashamed. And I didn’t want you to do anything to him or get hurt. I just wanted to forget it. I was a different person then.” That was the truth she had fought so hard to forget; so much so, that she had never mentioned it to him in all the years of conversations.  
  
“You mean I was around when this happened?”  
  
She didn’t answer, her silence telling him everything. They sat there in the quiet as she continued working, the soft thud of the last log giving up to the dying fire in the fireplace.  
  
“Was it that night that Kevin told me about? When I was at that executive party?”  
  
She thought back, trying to place when. There was a definitive break in the timeline of her memory, Pre-Jim, and Post-Jim. The Pre-Jim memories were blurry and faded, part of who she was but not something that took up large residence in her mind. She didn’t really want to recall any of it, to think about the person she used to be; not just young and stupid but afraid.  
  
“No, I left that night. This was long before that.” She wrung out the rag again; the water dripping through her fingers had become faint pink from the blood swirling in the basin. “I’m going to get fresh water.”  
  
“I can get it.” He moved to stand, knocking clean bandages to the floor in the process.  
  
“Hey, you are going to going to mess up my workspace here and I’m not done. I’ve got it,” she admonished and he looked up at her, his eyes full of unspoken questions.  
  
He obediently sat back and let her go. She felt him watching her again as she left the room, but was thankful for the excuse to change subjects. It was very much in the past and she wanted to leave it there.  
  
  
_____________  
  
  
The moon was still fairly high in the sky when he startled awake again. He looked down at Pam sleeping peacefully, her mouth slightly open and her eyelashes fanned out across her cheeks. Her arm was draped across his chest, he rested his lips on the top of her head. Her bruise was darker now or maybe moonlight made it seem that way. Pure rage coursed through him again. He ached to choke the life out of that bastard. The only comforting thought was that he wasn’t moving when he left him on the floor of that dirty barn. He felt jumpy and restless and had to get up and move.  
  
He found Brian sitting in the rocker on the porch, rifle over his lap.  
  
“Hey, I’ll take over for a while. Go get some rest.”  
  
“No, I’m good. I’ve only been out here for a couple of hours”  
  
Jim sat down on the chair next to him.  
  
“Crazy shit. Those guys are only a few miles away now. How many of them are there?”  
  
Jim sighed and rubbed his hand down his face, “I don’t know exactly. If I had to guess, I would say 15 or so at least.”  
  
“How’s Pam?”  
  
“She’s asleep but she and the baby will be okay.” Jim rubbed his face again.  
  
“Did they-“ He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.  
  
Jim looked over at him at first his mind not comprehending his meaning, “Oh, no. No, she just got banged up.”  
  
“Just,” Brian mumbled.  
  
“I know, Brian. I swear...” He stopped short, shaking his head, remembering his promise to her.  
  
Brian was quiet for a moment, a wordless understanding between them borne of similar temperaments and years of history. “If you went over there alone you’d never make it back and then what? His time will come,” he finished with cold certainty.  
  
He pulled at the bandage on his hand, wishing that made him feel better.  
  
“What I don’t understand is why did he let us go? What does he want exactly? He’s a scavenger, right? He’s just looking for things to take.”  
  
Brian sat back in his chair, propping the rifle against the railing. “He wants this place, I imagine. He doesn’t know enough to attack though.”  
  
“He’s smart. He’s not going to come after us until he knows he can win. He’s not exactly sure how many men we have or how many guns. He’s waiting for information.”  
  
“That and to make himself stronger too. That’s what I would do.”  
  
Jim sat there for a long time, staring at the layer of fog wrapping over the hills, shimmering in the moonlight. “Now we know where they are. That’s a good thing. We need to keep eyes on them. Send Jeff over there to see what they are up to. He knows that place well.”  
  
Brian nodded in agreement.  
  
Jim sighed deeply, “In the morning, I have to go tell Phillip we found Bandit and he’s dead.”  
  
  
________________  
  
  
Several hours later, Jim was down in the storage room taking a mental checklist of what needed to be done. The gray light of early morning had begun to illuminate the room through the small, narrow window near the ceiling. He didn’t go back to sleep, far too wired. He held Pam for a long time and listened to her deep, steady breathing, just lost in the tossing of his own mind. He got up at one point to look in on the bunk bedroom to reassure himself that Cece and Phil were indeed safe in their beds. He eventually ended up at an old wooden desk, turning a rifle over in his hands and taking it apart systematically, cleaning and oiling it. He drew in a deep breath. The night had rattled him and had all but shattered any illusions he had to their relative safety. It was one thing to have people he knew killed at the hands of Mac’s men but it was something else entirely to have his own family hurt. There was something more to the situation with Mac; something that he couldn’t quite identify. It felt like a chess game and he was unsure of what to predict in his next move.  
  
He scrubbed at the gun part a little too harshly with the brush while the frustration stirred in him. He was so immersed in his mental conversation he didn’t hear her come up behind him. He jumped slightly when her small hands snaked over his shoulder and around the front of his chest.  
  
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” She spoke softly and he closed his eyes; the mere sound of her voice was like salve to his troubled mind.  
  
He turned and looked up at her, she had their blanket wrapped around her and he just wanted to kiss her until all this went away, but the bruises on her face reminded him that this hell was very real.  
  
“How do you feel this morning?”  
  
“I could ask you the same thing.” She pulled his fingers to her lips and tenderly kissed the tops of them.  
  
She turned and sat halfway on the edge of the desk to see him fully, the look on his face told her she had to answer, “I feel much better. I must have slept well. I feel rested,” she relented. “You didn’t sleep at all did you?”  
  
He just shook his head. It amazed him how easily she read him sometimes. They studied each other lovingly for a long minute before they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.  
  
Brian’s apologetic voice broke through their silent conversation, “Jim, there are some guys here from town that want to meet with us.”  
  
He sat down the gun parts in his hand and looked at her. She nodded towards the door giving him what he needed to stride up the stairs and face whatever was waiting for him in the yard.


	8. In the Breath Between the Markers

Days seemed to blur together as the dangers of what existed outside their gates were put aside as the needs of the farm called with more urgency. Fall was upon them, and everything that went with it, the fast-moving threat of winter looming in the minds of everyone. Newcomers had steadily arrived, staking their claim in the area near the main house, new foundations beginning to dot the once empty grass field; an unspoken race to beat the snow. Work on the barrier had continued despite the labor needed elsewhere, as people worked until the darkness drove them to their beds, exhausted.  
  
Despite the back-breaking work, there was a sense of moving forward that hadn’t been felt in a very long time. The thread of hope wound its way cautiously through them and began to pull together its loose ends, binding them together in what started to feel like a community.  
  
The delicate strength of the strands had been tested when word came of several small groups who had found their way to town, desperate for refuge from the growing desolation of the east. Many had argued that there was simply not enough of everything to take in the outsiders but Jim had convinced them, mostly at Pam’s urging, that they would be stronger with them.  
  
“Pam?”  
  
Angela walked into the kitchen seeing Pam staring out the windows into the yard. Storm clouds had begun to gather over the crest of the far hill; their threatening shapes creating giant steel-blue mountains stretching into the sky. Pam felt the electricity they brought to the air and the promise of both danger and quenching relief.  
  
“Who is that?”  
  
“I don’t know. I just noticed them when I came from upstairs.” Pam answered, not taking her eyes from the yard.  
  
The dark-haired man she recognized but the heavier man she didn’t. They were talking to Jim, Brian, and several other of their group’s men in a loose circle. Clearly whatever they were being told was upsetting given the expressions passing over their faces. She focused in on Jim. He stood with his arms crossed and a wide stance until whatever he heard made him rub the back of his neck and look down uncomfortably.  
  
“What do you think they are talking about?”  
  
“I don’t know.” It was all Pam could offer. She wanted to snap _‘Why don’t you go ask them?’_ but she bit her tongue.  
  
Angela stood next to her to look out the same double-paned window, all-purpose, and business. “They’re all looking to Jim, the people in the other groups coming here. That’s what Donna told me after the other night,” she finished in her very detached, Angela way.  
  
“Why?” Pam looked at her suddenly concerned.  
  
She shrugged, “They feel he is the strongest, I suppose. Many of them knew Dwight well and after what Jim did…,” her voice broke but she quickly regained her composure, “My Dwight would have been happy to step up.”  
  
Pam knew this had always bothered Angela; his inheriting of the mantle of leadership she felt still belonged to her late husband. Jim had always naturally made decisions and was the first to take responsibility. He had shared that with Dwight when he was alive but after his death, it seemed to all shift to Jim whether he wanted it to or not. She knew he wasn’t necessarily comfortable with the added responsibility thrust on him. If asked, he shrugged it off, not out of some sense of false humility but rather a desire to give up the weight of the decisions. Men followed him willingly, people listened when he spoke. If she was honest, it made her nervous that the town and surrounding groups saw him like that as well. He was more than capable, of course, she just didn’t want him in more danger and selfishly she didn’t want to share him.  
  
“Would you like to help organize the responsibilities of all the new people?” Angela’s voice was sharp and clipped and Pam couldn’t help but notice the note of disdain when she said, _new people._ Everyone was well aware that Angela wasn’t pleased with opening up the Farm to the rest of the town. She saw the practicality of it but it was similar to the way one tolerates snakes because they eat rodents; not exactly with enthusiasm.  
  
“Yeah, I can help.”  
  
“I don’t think I need it but _some people_ feel you should be in charge of the schedule.”  
  
She hesitated, afraid to ask but did anyway, “Why me?”  
  
“You are Jim’s wife,” Angela stated this incredulously as if it was an obvious explanation, turning on her heel and leaving just as Jim opened the back door to the kitchen.  
  
“Oh, okay,” Pam muttered to herself as much as to Angela’s retreating form before turning to Jim. “Hey. Who were they? What was that about?”  
  
“The Miller kids,” walking over to the hand pump at the sink and drawing up a glass of water before leaning against the countertop. “That guy is one of the people in town needing a place to live. He came across one of those traders a few days ago on the road. The trader had two kids with him. He remembers them because they looked scared and unhappy. He figures the guy was a trafficker.”  
  
“Oh my God, do you think it’s them?”  
  
“Well, Pete is going to take him to the Millers to see if his description fits. If it is them,” he sighed, rubbing his neck, “it’s not good. Most of those traders go to Tent City.”  
  
“I know Tent City is bad but couldn’t we go after them?”  
  
He set down his glass and motioned between them, “We? _We_ aren’t going any—“  
  
“What are we going to do with these?” Brian had breezed in the kitchen and unceremoniously dropped a large box of walkie-talkies on the table.  
  
“What are these? They look ancient.” Pam made a face as she picked up one of the dusty pieces to examine it.  
  
“Old walkies,” Brian supplied. “We found them in the bomb shelter or whatever the hell that place was.”  
  
A week earlier, Henry had stumbled across a door in the ground that led to a fully stock bomb shelter underground. Dwight had never mentioned it, even to Angela or so she claimed but Pam doubted that. In addition to the walkies and an old Ham radio, it was well stocked with seed, fertilizer, canned food, medicine, and clothes. Jim suspected he did this after they all arrived. Knowing Dwight, he never fully trusted any of them and always had a backup plan.  
  
“Yeah, we’ll see if we can get them to work again. They could be useful,” Jim turned to her, “We are going to be bringing back a bunch of people today, can you help get it organized and settled?”  
  
“I’m already on it. Erin and I have laid out where everything should go and Angela just mentioned making a schedule. Honestly, you guys have no idea what it takes to keep this place running, do you?”  
  
A flitter of a knowing smile crossed his lips and he took a single step to close the distance between them. His fingers slid through her belt loop tugging her hips to his, the other hand sliding down her arm until his fingers tangled in hers; voice dropping low and adoring. “God, I love you. Have I told you that?”  
  
She coyly smirked, leaning into him slightly, her body drawn to his of its own volition. “Mmm, I seem to remember hearing that at some point.”  
  
“Come on Jim, quit flirting with your wife and help me get these working.” Pam could practically hear Brian rolling his eyes with his words and she blushed, leaving the men to their battle with the aging electronics.  
  
  
  
  
They all stood in the kitchen, gathered around the large table in the middle, a selection of walkie talkies in front of them. Even in the sizeable room, it was shoulder to shoulder. There was a nervous hum as people spoke in quiet voices to each other.  
  
Jim cleared his throat and everyone stopped talking. “Okay, we found these down in Dwight’s bomb shelter. We don’t know how long they will work or their range but we are going to try them out today.”  
  
“We are going into town today. I know it has been quiet but we don’t need to let our guard down. Everyone needs to stick together. Don’t go anywhere alone, especially the kids, be armed and take a walkie. Channel 7.”  
  
He hesitated, unsure of how much he wanted to tell the group at large. He glanced down at Pam and she nodded encouragingly, the corners of her lips pulling slightly.  
  
“We’ve had lookouts checking in on old Roger’s farm...on Mac. Yesterday, a large group of them left, including him.”  
  
Murmuring energy worked through the room and Jim raised his hand to quiet it.  
  
“We don’t know what this means, where they went, or if they are coming back. I assume they are coming back. They left men and supplies. This doesn’t mean we get careless.”  
  
“Another thing” he looked in Angela’s direction pointedly, acknowledging her approval, “As you already know, there are going to be more people come live here. They are small groups with nowhere to go and we know that Mac’s men make that dangerous.” At this, the whispering began to bubble up again around the room. Jim was always careful to be respectful of the fact that they were guests at Dwight and Angela’s home. Even though they had lived here for years and it felt like their home too, it was still hers.  
  
“No one will be kicked out of their room or where they have set up but like before, they will stay in tents until we can build more buildings. They will be expected to help too. The last harvest of the season is almost here and we will use everyone.” That seemed to answer some of the concerns as the whispers quieted.  
  
“Jeff is staying here with a group for security. The rest of us are going. If you want to come along, you are more than welcome to.” He left the invitation out there and grabbed two walkies from the table and turned to Pam, who stood quietly at his right shoulder.  
  
“Keep one and call me if you need me,” he said in his deep voice, placing one of the walkies in her hand.  
  
“You don’t want me to come?” She held onto his hand not letting him retrieve it and looked up at him, the question hanging between them. A range of emotions crossed his face and he shook his head and looked down at where their hands were joined. She quickly wondered if he would ever let her leave again after the night in Roger’s barn. It was ridiculous, of course. She would pass through those gates again at some point but she knew he would delay it as long as possible. She could all but see the battle playing out in his mind as she looked at him.  
  
“Pam-“ he faltered. He met her eyes again and she saw his silent plea. She reached up and placed a small kiss on his cheek, keeping his face between her hand and her face for a long minute. He reluctantly pulled away, bringing his free hand burying it in her hair; kissing her forehead before turning towards the door, joining the other men beginning to file out.  
  
  
____________  
  
  
As they arrived at the old town library, they realized just how many people needed a place to stay. It looked like what Jim imagined a refugee camp might. There were belongings and people scattered everywhere. Luggage and crying babies occupied the space that used to be rows of books. The distinct smell of unwashed human bodies filled the air and knot of uneasiness pulled at Jim’s stomach as he remembered what life was like before they had found their home now. As he looked around, he saw in their eyes what he once felt and the memories of the road came back to him with suffocating heaviness. He swallowed hard, reminding himself silently that he and Pam and the children had made it; they had been through this but came out the other side, alive.  
  
“Jim!” Jim heard Nicolas’s familiar voice over the cacophony of sounds.  
  
“I’m so glad you are here. I think these folks are anxious to get going. Also, there are still a few people that haven’t been assigned a place to go and I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do.”  
  
Jim looked at Nicolas questioningly.  
  
“Why me?”  
  
“Well, I mean” Nicolas stumbled over his words, “you just ... we all thought it should be you I guess”  
  
Jim looked at Pete and Brian and Brian gave him a small shrug.  
  
“Ok. Get everyone ready to move out in some orderly fashion. We are going to have to go in shifts. As for the extra people, they can come with us. Pete, can you go test the walkies and see if they work in town?”  
  
Nicolas smiled sincerely and scurried off in the direction of the crowd.  
  
“Mr. Jim?”  
  
A teenage girl stepped out from around the door frame. Her blonde matted curls framed her dirty face and it seemed she had missed a few too many meals. Jim stared at her questioningly for a long moment before recognition hit him like a blow.  
  
“Sasha? Sasha Flenderson? Oh my God!”  
  
Her small nod and smile confirmed his suspicions. Looks of confusion bounced around the group of men when Toby walked up behind her.  
  
“Toby!” Jim grabbed his hand in a hearty handshake and Pete followed taking his opportunity to greet their old friend.  
  
“How— what are you doing here?”  
  
“We were outside Philly for a while. Thought we would try the country.” Toby spoke in the quiet manner Jim remembered. He and Sasha looked rough and everything about them told the story of being on the road for a very long time. They were both dirty and too thin, their shoes looking like they were falling apart.  
  
Jim shook his head in disbelief. “Well, you are coming home with us. We are living at Dwight and Angela’s. We have for several years now actually. We have plenty of room. Pam is going to be so happy to see you.”  
  
“She’s alive?”  
  
“Of course,” Jim smiled with a small chuckle, “She’s at home. When we get done with everything here we’ll take you guys there. Just hang out for a little bit.” He slapped Toby good-naturedly on the shoulder and couldn’t help but notice how weak he seemed to be as he rocked slightly from the contact.  
  
  
The organization of the groups into shifts didn’t take long and Brian was set in charge of transportation back to the Farm. Jim grabbed him before the second to last group was leaving.  
  
“Hey, have you seen Dr. Brooks? I thought he was coming.” Brian shook his head negatively in response and Jim made his way for the door, “I’ll be right back.”  
  
Jim walked down the empty old Main Street, two buildings over to where the doctor’s office once was, now just a rundown version of its former glory. The neglected glass front so grey and dingy from dirt it was now opaque and the red-bricked frame echoed of a time long past.  
  
He pushed the heavy wooden door open slowly and the little bell above the frame announced his arrival. “Mike! Are you in there?”  
  
“In the back,” Mike’s disembodied voice came from the office in the rear of the building.  
  
Jim found him sitting at a huge wooden desk, piles of books and files stacked all around him; boxes upon boxes patient files were all that was left of a once-thriving practice.  
  
“Hey man, are you still coming to the Farm? We uh, only have one more group left.”  
  
“This was my father’s desk. It’s old. It was passed down in our family.” His voice was pensive, running his hand over the dark wood. Only in his mid-thirties, Mike Brooks had been a successful small-town doctor before the world changed forever. His patients came from all the neighboring communities, Jeff had explained to Jim once when he had asked about him. He had brought Larissa a drink that night and Jim wanted to know all about the young doctor with kind eyes and a seemingly strong interest in his sister.  
  
“Do you want to bring it? I don’t know if it will fit.”  
  
Mike waved him off, his plaid shirt sleeves rolled up revealing an expensive watch. A leftover from a time when that mattered.  
  
“Listen, I know you don’t really want to leave but you know it’s not a good idea to be out here alone. No one is going to be around anymore and Mac—”  
  
“I know. Larissa told me all that.”  
  
Jim bristled slightly at the mention of his sister but he kept talking, hoping to get the reluctant man moving.  
  
“I really appreciate it though. I know Pete does too… you being around for Erin.”  
  
Mike cut him off briskly, “I’m not interested in fighting anyone. I’ll help you guys out, I’ll do this for her. I’m not planning on making any enemies.”  
  
Jim studied him for a moment, his revelation surprising him. “Okay.”  
  
They seemed to reach some sort of tenuous agreement that satisfied him and he grabbed two boxes and strode out the door.  
  
  
When the last truckload pulled into the yard of the farmhouse, people were gathered under the large oak that covered the space.  
  
“I remember this place,” Toby said quietly and Pete smiled at him.  
  
Jim turned off the truck and began helping people step off the back tailgate when Pam found him.  
  
“Hey! I’ve got a surprise for you.” He grabbed her hand and led her over to where Toby and Sasha were standing with the remaining group.  
  
The moment Toby turned, Pam let out a gasp, her hands coming to her mouth in shock, “It can’t be. Toby?” She moved over to him, finally shaking off her surprise, giving him a warm hug.  
  
She pulled back, “It’s been so long! How did you find us here?”  
  
“Just lucky. It got worse so we came west.” He quietly replied. Toby’s happy expression and eyes immediately darkened when he noticed her bruised face and his eyes drifted down to her slightly swollen belly poking out from her coat. He turned and glared at Jim, who didn’t seem to notice as he was being pulled away to answer questions. Pam had moved on to hugging Sasha and reintroducing her to Cece. Toby couldn’t believe this was the Pam Beesly he had once known.  
  
_____________

  
“Knock, knock.” Jim pushed on the open door to the small room on the third floor to find Toby pulling a blanket over the metal frame bed. The room wasn’t more than a glorified closet but it was more than Toby had had in a very long time.  
  
“I just wanted to see if you needed anything and if you are getting settled.” Jim continued.  
  
Toby stood and turned to look at him but stayed silent.  
  
“What’s wrong? Hey, if it’s because Sasha is in the bunk room, she can totally stay in here, we just thought she would have more fun with the other kids—“  
  
“So this is how it is now?”  
  
“What?” Jim was lost.  
  
“Her face. It’s pretty obvious. And pregnant too. God, you selfish prick,” disgust dripped from his voice and he dropped his head in anger.  
  
Jim shook the stunned expression off his face after a long moment as he caught up with what he was insinuating.  
  
“Wow. Okay,” he took a step further into the room, his tone darkening, “First of all, I would never, _ever_ hit her. You know me, _us,_ and I can’t believe you would even think that. And second, I appreciate that you had a thing for Pam, but she is _my wife_ and our baby is none of your business.”  
  
Toby looked up him and Jim held his stare hoping he made his warning clear and Toby looked away.  
  
“Are we good?” He didn’t wait to get a response and turned and left the room.  
  
  
Jim immediately looked for Pam; a knee jerk reaction to share anything that happened to him with her as soon as possible. He saw her across the yard carrying a large basket of damp clothes on her hip making her way to the clotheslines. He jogged to catch up with her taking the basket from her when he did.  
  
“When will you learn?”  
  
“Learn what?” She wasn’t even startled by his sudden appearance, always calling it her ‘Jim-sense.’  
  
“That it’s okay to ask for help when you’re pregnant.”  
  
“There was no one around and I’m not as fragile as you think I am in my ‘condition,’” she said with a smirk. She pointed to a spot on the ground next to the line and he dutifully put the basket there.  
  
“You are terrible at accepting help, Beesly.”  
  
She started to clip a pair of jeans on the line when he grabbed a shirt and did the same. A stiff breeze pulled the clothing slightly and she fought with it before wrestling it into the clip.  
  
“It’s almost getting too cold to do this outside now.” She buttoned another button on her coat, “I’m so happy that Toby and Sasha are here. It gives me hope.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s great but you are not going to believe what he just said to me.”  
  
She stopped and looked at him.  
  
“He thinks I did that,” motioning to the fading bruise on her cheek, “and that getting you pregnant makes me a ‘selfish prick.’”  
  
Her eyes grew wide, “Seriously? He said that?”  
  
Jim nodded, “I don’t remember him being so blunt.”  
  
“Me either.” Pam mirrored him, slightly stunned. She bent down and grabbed a large white sheet. “Wow.”  
  
“That’s what I said,” he picked up another shirt to hang. “In my defense, I happen to remember you being a very, very active participant in the conception of that baby. It wasn’t just me.”  
  
He watched her shadow chuckle on the other side of the sheet she was hanging, an amused “Oh God…” drifting over it.  
  
“No, I’m pretty sure it was ‘Oh Jim’ at the time.” A damp pair of pants suddenly flew hard at his head but he caught them.  
  
“Should I go talk to him?” She peered around to look at him.  
  
“You can if you want, but I think I made my position pretty clear.”  
  
“I just want him to feel welcome and for it not to be weird.” She pulled the last shirt from the basket as she spoke, glancing at him, “I saw Mike come in today. Larissa is pretty excited.”  
  
She heard his groan in response, but she continued, “Oh come on, babe. She deserves to be happy. He seems like a good man and he seems to really like her.”  
  
He silently picked at the frayed handle of the empty basket, “It’s just hard to see my baby sister with anybody. We used to give any boy she brought home a very hard time.”  
  
“Oh boy. What are you going to do when Cece —“  
  
“Don’t—” he shook his head and closed his eyes in mock pain, “Don’t talk about that, please.”  
  
Pam chuckled warm and deep and Jim smiled at her despite himself.  
  
“I will say I’m glad he’s closer now. Erin is almost due and I’m right behind her.”  
  
Jim set down the basket and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting the side of his face against hers; his hands smoothing over her. The gnawing fear, the utter helplessness he felt, filled him as he drew a breath. Circumstances set in motion that he was powerless to stop. “Don’t remind me.”  
  
She relaxed her body against him, leaning her head back on his shoulder, “Of what?”  
  
“Hospital-less birth. It scares me to death, Pam.”  
  
“We will be fine. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. It’s not my first either. I can’t imagine how scary it must be for Erin. Or Pete too, I guess.”  
  
“Oh, he is terrified. Trust me.”  
  
  
______________  
  
  
Their ceremony was beautiful in its simplicity. Weddings seemed like an unnecessary use of resources and time After. Many did not even bother, forgoing the formality of the entire thing, but it felt now like a small homage to what was. Remembering what was once normal. Pete and Erin’s was under the large oak tree that overlooked the valley, its burnt-orange leaves falling in the light breeze all around them. Dr. Brooks performed the ceremony even though he likely wasn’t any sort of ordained minister. Jim was fairly certain no one really cared. Pam stood by Erin, not in any sort of official role just supporting her, and he and Brian did the same for Pete. A crowd gathered around them, several familiar faces but many new ones.  
  
Dinner served dual purposes that evening, both in celebration and necessity. They lined up make-shift tables made out of long wooden boards stretched across sawhorses, and commandeered every available chair in the house to accommodate everyone; some utilizing buckets or crates instead. There were freshly baked vegetables and an enormous ham from one of the hogs that had been recently butchered, cooking over a large spit. Meredith brought out the gin she had traded for at the meet-up and passed it around. Even though it was a light-hearted evening, Jim had several men run patrols on the perimeter of the property so they would have a heads up if anyone was coming. The walkie clipped to his waist was as constant a presence now as his weapon, allowing him to stay in constant contact with the gate and security. There was always the looming threat, but at that moment it seemed manageable.  
  
Pam noticed Toby sat at the opposite end of the table as she and Jim, opting instead to sit with Meredith and share her gin and old memories. Sasha had gotten cleaned up and looked as though she was already feeling better. She felt the warmth of Jim’s leg against hers and his soothing laughter at something Brian had said. Suddenly she felt a familiar sensation on her side that made her heart jump. She grabbed Jim’s hand brought it down to the fluttering happening inside her; her small hand covering his large one, guiding it to the right spot. He put down the glass he was holding in his other and turned to her, his eyebrows raised in silent question and she nodded her reply. He looked down in concentration until he felt it, his eyes immediately raising to hers when the feather-like movement rippled under his hand. She smiled and pulled his forehead down to meet hers, closing her eyes. The world, with all its horror and troubles, fell away for a few long seconds. Instead, all that existed was this.  
  
The moment ended abruptly with the sound of their son setting down a rather large plate of cookies and cake.  
  
“Did you eat any actual food or just sweets?” Pam admonished as he sat down across from them.  
  
“I ate a few bites of Noodles and Cheese,” Phil spoke muffled with his cheeks full of cake, brown floppy hair falling slightly in his green eyes. He was Jim Halpert all over again.  
  
“No more, Phil” Jim added.  
  
“Okay,” Phil mumbled before he impossibly swallowed most of what he was chewing and picked up his half-finished plate to return it to the desserts. Pam shook her head as she watched him walk away.  
  
“He’s your son, you know,” she smiled in his direction.  
  
“Oh, no. He has the Beesly appetite for sure.” Pam playfully slapped his chest and Jim got up before she could again, “I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?”  
  
  
After the meal, kids ran off to play and the adults broke off into smaller groups, conversation filling the air as the alcohol had begun to take its effect. Pam spotted Toby off by himself, nursing what she assumed was Meredith’s gin in a mason jar.  
  
“Hey, Toby”  
  
His face lit up when he saw her, “ Hey.”  
  
“How’s your room? Is it comfortable?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s great, thank you,” he nervously looked down at his glass. She could tell he had had more than one at this point as his eyes were glassy and his words loose.  
  
“Good. Jim and I are so glad you and Sasha are here. We just want you to feel at home.”  
  
He made a smirking face at this and she saw her opportunity.  
  
“Listen, Jim told me what you said earlier.” Toby looked embarrassed and shuffled on his feet. “He didn’t hurt me, he never would, you have to know that. We had a run-in with Mac’s men. One of them hit me, not Jim. Jim would never—”  
  
“Why didn’t he stop him?” Her mouth gaped opened and she stopped. She was startled at this new, bold Toby that seemed to have no filter. “I would have,” he mumbled as he looked down again.  
  
She pulled back, shocked, then anger bubbled up inside her, “We were outnumbered! Wha— why do you hate Jim so much now? What happened to you?”  
  
“He doesn’t deserve you.” Toby’s voice was raised now drawing the attention of several people around them. She was stunned to silence. Her mind spun wildly trying to understand where this was coming from and why. Her old friend, the person who had such a calming presence Before was now an angry and bitter man.  
  
She felt Jim instantly at her elbow, “Is everything okay over here?” His eyes searching her face for a hint on how he should react.  
  
Toby ignored him, his voice tight, “You know I’m right.”  
  
Jim’s presence gave her the ability to find her words again, “No Toby, you are wrong. You are very wrong and you need to stop this.”  
  
Toby let out an exasperated, angry breath and Jim shifted closer to Pam, “Hey, man—“  
  
Pam stopped him with her hand on his chest. She didn’t want to see this get worse. Not tonight, not ever. Instead, she slipped her hand in his and pulled him away, leaving Toby without another word.


	9. Kiss My Mouth, Hell is Here

“Jim, we have a problem.”  
  
Jim looked up from the wood he was chopping, wiping the back of his arm across his damp brow. His shirt had begun to stick to his skin and he felt a trickle of sweat move down his spine as he straightened. Despite the chill in the air now, the sun seemed to be focusing its attention on the woodpile where Jim had been for the better part of two hours. At least it seemed that way to him as he worked to finish the several cords of wood he set out to accomplish. More people would need firewood than they had originally planned for and he spent his spare time catching them up.  
  
“What?” Worry flittering across his face, as he glanced at his silent walkie and weapon laying on the nearby stump.  
  
Jeff’s hand went up to calm him.  
  
“Two chickens are missing.”  
  
Jim exhaled sharply and smiled in relief, picking up another log and setting it in place. Jeff tilted his head in apology.  
  
“What, did a fox or something get them?” The exertion of his swing straining his voice as the stroke of his ax split the log effortlessly.  
  
“I don’t see how. That coop is locked uptight. In all my years, I’ve never seen an animal get into a coop built like that with a fence under the ground. It’s weird, I grant you. Also, we are almost out of salt. I’ve asked everyone, even the new families and no one has any. Our store of it in the barn is almost empty. I told Pam and she told me to tell you.”  
  
He smiled with a soft chuckle, “I’m sure she did.”  
  
He steadied another log and with a practiced stroke, sent the two pieces flying in separate directions. “Okay, we can go on a run and look for some but I don’t remember seeing any. We might have to go out farther than we’ve been before.”  
  
“Well, there’s also something else to think about. There’s an old salt mine about 30 miles from here. I don’t know if it’s even accessible anymore. I haven’t heard mention of it in years and years but it might be worth checking.”  
  
“That’s good Jeff, thanks. Brian and I will check it out,” he leaned on his ax handle against the large stump used as the surface to chop wood, “Pete will be back soon from the Millers and I have a feeling we are going to have to make a trip to Tent City to look for these kids first.”  
  
Jeff whistled low. “I ain’t heard nothing good about that place. Are you sure it’s worth it?”  
  
“We have to see if we can find these kids, Jeff.” Jim’s voice was resigned. He still held out hope that they were alive. When he imagined the two Miller kids he saw Cece and Phil and it was impossible to just let it go.  
  
“It ain’t all on you, Jim. This wasn’t your fault or anything. They ran off and got lost.” Jeff lifted his worn trucker’s hat, needlessly smoothing his thinning hair beneath it in a quick motion, then leaning against the corner of the woodshed.  
  
“Well, we are pretty sure those two drunk idiots scared them off the trail that day and that’s why they got lost,” Jim twisted the tip of the ax against the wood, pushing it into the grain, “And those drunk idiots wouldn’t even be here if we hadn’t led them back from the pharmacy when we did.”  
  
Jeff considered the younger man for a moment, “You’re a good man, Jim. All these people here trust you,” he waved his arm back towards the litany of hammer sounds coming from the new construction, “but you are not solely responsible for every bad thing around here. People make choices every day that mean they will live or die. You should make sure your choices are risking it for the right things.”  
  
  
  
  
Jim crossed the yard, the sky now overcast and a cold breeze picking up fallen leaves and spinning them into a frenzy. He silently cursed his bad luck that as soon as he finished at the woodpile the sun retreated behind the clouds, mocking the damp hair at the base of his neck. He glanced at the large kitchen window as he passed, seeing the top of Pam’s head working over something at the sink.  
  
The original group still lived in the large main house and that provided them with some small element of privacy, the only exceptions being Toby and Dr. Brooks who took up residence in the small office on the first floor. Much to Jim’s dismay, the reality was that he mainly slept in Larissa’s room and used the office to see patients. Erin was heavy with her impending delivery and that put everyone in the house slightly on edge.  
  
Pete pulled in to the yard in the old pickup truck, dust swirling around it as it stopped. Jim, and Brian who had just appeared, made their way to him. Before they could ask the obvious question, Pete answered them.  
  
“She thinks it’s them. She’s positive. The girl had a red bandana on her head, apparently, and so did this kid.” He slammed the rickety door to the truck, a loud creaking sound as the rusted hinges protested use.  
  
Jim just nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stood silently thinking.  
  
“Is this place the only possible direction they went?” Brian asked when he didn’t say anything.  
  
Jim spoke slowly, weighing his choices; Jeff’s wise words still ringing in his ears. “I mean it’s possible he is going somewhere else, but that’s what these guys do. They work the main roads, collecting things and people, then they go sell at the trading centers. Tent City is the only one even close to here.”  
  
“It’s a long shot, but I’m always up for an adventure,” added Brian facetiously.  
  
“We will go today,” Jim said resolutely. “Obviously Mrs. Miller can’t and if we don’t go soon we’ll have to wait until spring. With Mac taking half his men somewhere, it may be our only chance.”  
  
“I have to stay, Jim. Erin is —” Pete looked apologetic but Jim quickly reassured him with a pat on his shoulder.  
  
“No, I wouldn’t want you to. You have to stay, of course.”  
  
“I want to go too.” Pam’s small but strong voice came from behind Jim and he spun around, not even realizing she was there listening with Larissa. He tilted his head and looked at her with pleading eyes. They stood there having a silent conversation when Larissa added, “Can you look for some supplies for me, Pam? I’ll make a list.”  
  
Jim glared at her and she returned his expression defiantly. “What? I can ask you but I can’t ask Pam? You are the only one who can find things?”  
  
Pam smiled at Larissa and Jim shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, “You two are impossible.”  
  
“Yeah well, I learned from the best, big brother.” She smacked him on the back and walked back to the kitchen.  
  
“You know that this is crazy, right?” Jim pulled Pam aside and lowered his voice, hoping she would see reason.  
  
“Why is it crazy? It will only be a few days. Those poor kids are going to be scared with two big guys they don’t know, I can help with them. We are safer when we are together, you know that” she said softly. He sighed again and dropped his head.  
  
“Erin and I will watch Cece and Phil. I’ll guard them with my life, Jim, I promise.” Pete said soundly and Jim held his eyes for a long moment. He was beginning to think the entire group was conspiring against him.  
  
Jim looked at Pam and shook his head with a smile, “Okay, let’s pack and get on the road.”  
  
  
  
  
Jim hugged Phil and leaned over to look him in the eye, “Hey, listen to Mr. Pete and Mrs. Erin and keep an eye on your sister. You are the man of the house while I’m gone, okay?” Phil solemnly nodded, taking his father’s request very seriously. Jim smiled warmly at him, history repeating itself as his own father’s same words to him came flickering in his mind like an old movie reel.  
  
Pam and Jim hugged Cece and kissed her head, “We’ll be back in a few days. Make sure your brother stays out of trouble,” Pam squeezed her hand.  
  
“We love you both,” Jim added and she nodded, tears threatening to spill over her light brown eyelashes. Angela quickly ushered them inside to get their minds preoccupied with a board game.  
  
Pam went to sit in the cab of the truck and Jim and Brian finished loading the last of the gas cans and bags when Toby walked up, his worn satchel slung over his shoulder.  
  
“I heard you are going to Tent City. I want to go. I’ll even sit in the back.”  
  
“Toby, I appreciate you wanting—“  
  
Toby cut him off, “Have you been there before? I have and I can show you how to get there.”  
  
Jim glanced at Brian who returned his look with a shrug. 

"Okay, get in."

“It’s weird…being this far East again.”  
  
Jim looked over Pam’s head resting against his shoulder in the direction of Brian’s voice. “Yeah.” His face was drawn at the memories flooding back into his mind.  
  
“That seems so long ago. A lifetime,” Brian paused in thought. “There were times I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.” His deep voice drifted over the hum of the truck’s engine and the sound of the road disappearing beneath them.  
  
“Yeah,” Jim repeated and rubbed his beard pensively, looking out the window at the tall pines blurring by. “I was so scared that one of you was going to starve before me…” He shook his head slightly, driving away the fear that made his chest hurt. The thought came unbidden from the depths of his mind, the coldness of the concrete stretched out in front of them, drawing it forth.  
  
Brian studied him for a moment at his confession. His eyes reading the unspoken words etched on the lines of his face.  
  
“I can see that. You had more to lose than I did, but I can see that.” He tilted his head and nodded in admission.  
  
“Everything,” whispered Jim as he turned back to the window briefly to hide the emotion in his voice from his best friend. “I had everything to lose.” His words fell heavy in the cab of the truck, making the air feel tight in his lungs.  
  
“Yeah, but I know you cared about me the most. I mean, a world without Brian Greene? That’s a world you don’t want to live in.” Brian deadpanned.  
  
Jim looked over at him and smirked with a shake of his head. “Asshole.”  
  
Brian put his hand dramatically on his chest. “Ah yes, but an asshole that survives and occasionally shoots a bad guy,” tilting his head with a confident shrug.  
  
“And eats his weight in stew.” Jim returned dryly as they fell back into the comfortable banter that defined their friendship.  
  
Brian looked back at the bed of the truck, a huddled Toby securely against the single pane of glass that separated them. “Why do you think he wanted to go?”  
  
“No idea. I can’t figure the guy out anymore.”  
  
“He’s probably got a girl he likes there or something.”  
  
Jim snorted a laugh. “I doubt that very seriously.”  
  
“Why do you doubt that?”  
  
“Just a hunch.”  
  
Brian looked back again at the crouched figure. “He’s got to be freezing. When we stop, I’ll see if he wants to switch for a bit.”  
  
“If you want,” Jim shrugged. “He won’t be much company for me, especially since sleeping beauty here isn’t talkative.”  
  
“I’m tired,” came Pam’s annoyed, muffled voice from somewhere in the vicinity of his arm where she leaned against it.  
  
“Oh, sorry babe. I didn’t think you were awake.” Jim looked over and smiled in Brian’s direction with a small laugh and she shoved him playfully in his side.  
  
She shifted contentedly against him. “I can sit back there if you want, then you guys can chat it up.”  
  
Both Jim and Brian shook their heads but Jim answered, “No, you are absolutely _not_ sitting back there in the cold. No.”  
  
Pam looked up at him with a mixture of amused and annoyed, when something ahead caught her eye.  
  
“Are those people?”  
  
“Looks like it.”  
  
A group of road-weary humans passed going the other direction. Threadbare clothing and dirty faces followed Pam as she turned to watch them go by.  
  
“They had children,” she stated, as somehow that fact made their existence even worse in her mind. “We should give them something”  
  
“We don’t have anything with us.” Jim glanced in the rearview mirror at their disappearing forms.  
  
“I just feel like we should help people like that. We used to be those people.” _Dying_ , her mind supplied silently but she kept it to herself.  
  
Jim sighed and glanced tenderly down at her, “Pam, we can’t help everyone. As lucky as we are now, there are only limited supplies and you and the kids come first. All the people living on the farm come before strangers. We have to remember that. It has to be like that.”  
  
“I know. It’s just hard…”  
  
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, keeping his eyes forward on the road. “I know you want to help; I love that about you. It’s going to get worse the closer we get to the cities. Prepare yourself.”  
  
She didn’t want to prepare herself and she was suddenly second-guessing her decision to come along; her braveness leaving her in the faces of starving children. What she had imagined in her mind, and the reality of seeing it up close was closing in on her. The shadows of this world now seemed to loom on the edges of the forest; a fact she had forgotten, or pushed out of her mind, she wasn’t quite sure. She turned her face into Jim’s shoulder, exhaling softly into his shirt, and slipped her fingers into the hand he had resting on his thigh. Her anchor.  
  
They drove until almost dark, Pam in the middle, periodically falling asleep against Jim’s shoulder as he drove. The old dim headlights of the ancient pickup barely illuminating four feet in front of the fender. Several times they had to turn around and take a different route if the road was blocked. A popular tactic of road gangs, forcing people to get out of their vehicle to remove the roadblock, enabling them to attack. Trying to force their way through it wasn’t worth the risk.  
  
In the blue-grey light of dusk, Jim squinted at two shapes in the distance. “What’s that?”  
  
“Looks like a couple of guys…and a really bad roadblock; it’s totally open on the side over there. I’ll see if they mean it.” With a speedy crank of the handle, Brian rolled down the truck window and carefully pulled his rifle with him, sitting on the window frame as Jim pulled the truck to a stop.  
  
“Toby! Look alive back there, we have company,” Brian hissed over the roof of the cab and Toby clumsily took his pistol and aimed it towards the two men.  
  
The man on the road pulled a small handgun from behind his back and aimed it at them and Brian loaded a bullet in the chamber of his powerful rifle in response.  
  
“Just…don’t.” He shook his head discouragingly at the man, “Move aside and let us through.”  
  
“We just want your food,” the man yelled over the distance between them, “We won’t hurt you if you give us what you have.”  
  
“You’re outgunned. Just move.”  
  
The man hesitated for a moment before realizing he was indeed out-matched and returning his gun behind his back. Jim released the brake, letting the truck ease around the roadblock that was comprised of tree branches, shopping carts, and a rusty dumpster. Brian kept his weapon on the men until they were safely away, slipping back into the truck bed.  
  
“There wasn’t even a clip in that gun he had, the poor bastard.”  
  
  
They found an old gas station with an awning and they camped under there for the night. Jim parked the truck between them and the road for some slight protection and walked a wide perimeter with the rifle looking for anything suspicious. Brian started a fire and Pam made a temporary bed out of the several blankets they brought. She pried open a large jar of canned green beans and salted pork and heated them in a pan over the fire, that was now quite large and warm. He watched as she mixed together a few handfuls of flour, salt, and baking powder and balled some biscuits into a small dutch oven pan, putting the rest aside for breakfast.  
  
Before long the delicious smells of the meal were filling the air and making Jim realize he hadn’t eaten all day which also made him realize Pam probably hadn’t either. He watched her with worried eyes then, the fur of the hood circling her face fluttering gently while she worked. She was so tiny, much smaller than she had been with Phil. She sometimes barely looked pregnant with a coat on. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew that she needed food more than he did. When the plate was passed around with the meat he took one off his plate and put it on hers.  
  
“I got some already.” She spoke quietly and looked up at him, starting to put it back on his plate but he just pulled his plate away and shook his head without explanation.  
  
They all ate in quiet companionship for a while until Brian started to share stories about camping with his dad when he was a boy. The conversation shifted to general childhood memories that everyone shared, even Toby, and after almost two hours they were all out. Pam was tired and excused herself from the fire and went over to the pallet of blankets she had made for her and Jim earlier leaving the men to their conversation.  
  
“What’s this place like, Toby?” Brian asked several minutes later.  
  
“Well, it’s big. It’s about halfway between Philly and Trenton. Thousands of people, at least there was when I was there. Lots of people selling things. Some people take dollars although it’s not worth much, most want to trade.” He took a long drink from Brian’s flask and passed it back.  
  
“You can find just about anything. There are a lot of bad people too though so you have to be careful. There are gangs that run guns, drugs, and brothels.”  
  
Jim looked over at Pam’s sleeping form, her back was to him but he could see the feminine curve of her hip under the blanket and worry knotted in his stomach.  
  
“Do you think these kids are there?” Brian continued.  
  
“If they are alive, they’ll be here. Everything passes through here going towards the northeast.” He stared into the fire, “I’m hoping I’ll see some friends from last time I was here.”  
  
Something about the way he said that prompted Brian to reply, “Friends, huh? Female friends?” And Toby just smiled and shrugged.  
  
“Does your female friend have another female friend?” Brian asked jokingly.  
  
Toby chuckled, “Yeah she does, I’m sure.”  
  
“Stay focused, you two,” Jim said low and quiet.  
  
“Excuse me, some of us don’t get to go to a warm woman in his bed every night, man.” Brian teased and Toby nodded in agreement.  
  
“Come on,” Jim tilted his head, “It’s not just any woman, and that’s not what I meant, I just—“  
  
Brian put his hand up, “I’m kidding. I mean, I wish I had what you had, believe me.” His smile fell and the humor in his voice belied the truth; there were not any eligible women anywhere near Brian and in the darkness of night feared he would be alone forever. The thought chilled him to the bone.  
  
Silence fell heavy over the three of them and Jim didn’t quite know what to say so he didn’t respond. Toby eventually broke the silence and filled them in on a few more details of the Tent City. Brian called first watch, “I’m too awake to sleep, anyway,” he added, lost in his thoughts.  
  
“Well, wake me up when you get tired, I’ll take over.” With that, Jim made his way to Pam, pulled off his shoes, and crawled under the blanket with her. She sleepily rolled towards him, burying her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arm over his torso, their child solid between them as her leg stoked slowly against his. Her contented sigh against his chest caused him to kiss the top of her hair and close his eyes. He was _damn_ lucky; his last remaining thought as sleep overtook him.  
  
______________  
  
  
Toby wasn’t exaggerating, the place was huge. Pam had heard stories about it and they all seemed to be true. It was an old baseball stadium at the center but it expanded beyond the walls of the stadium and spilled into the expansive parking lots surrounding it. It reminded Pam of a shanty town, a mix of tents, tarps and plywood structures as far as you could see. Smoke from fires dotted the structures and the air was a mix of wood smoke and something else that wasn’t entirely pleasant.  
  
They found what appeared to be an entrance, hand-painted signs, and warnings on bare wood crowded above the head of a man in the remains of a modified ticket booth. He eyed them warily, his gaze traveling up and down each of them. His face had portly bone structure but poor nutrition and care made his face look gaunt instead.  
  
“What’s your purpose?” His voice was much higher than Pam had expected out of such a large man.  
  
“We, uh, we came for supplies,” Jim answered for the group.  
  
“Uh, huh,” he motioned and three large, armed men appeared out of nowhere. “You have to see the Ward Boss first. His name is Zachary. These men will take you there.” His tone was clipped and dismissive and quickly moved on from them and back to whatever he was reading.  
  
The followed one of the men through the winding, dizzying maze of paths that seemed to have been laid out by a drunk person, and very likely were. They reached a set of metal stairs that were once part of the original stadium and they made their way down a long open cement corridor to what looked like the managing offices of a once successful farm league team in middle America. The doors opened to reveal a stocky man smoking a cigar at a large desk; a huge picture frame window behind him giving him a view of the entirety that was Tent City.  
  
He looked up at them, taking a long drag of the cigar he smoked before he spoke.  
  
“Well, well. And here I thought it was going to be a boring Wednesday. Fresh off the boat, I see.” His eyes took in their appearance, moving over each one. “I’m Zachary. I run most of this place. Who are you?” There was a slight Boston lilt to the man’s voice.  
  
“I’m Jim, this is Pam, Brian, and Toby.” Jim supplied, shifting the strap for the rifle on his back as he spoke. Pam wasn’t sure if it was a subconscious sign or his nerves, but his hand settled in an unthreatening way on the strap.  
  
The man’s eyes narrowed to an unsettling squint. “What are you here for?”  
  
“We were hoping to trade for some clothing and some salt.” He left out the very important detail of two young children but Pam didn’t think this guy care much about that.  
  
“Good luck,” he replied sardonically. “Salt has become as rare as coffee beans and is worth more than gold. Is that it?”  
  
Jim nodded and shrugged and the man stood and turned to the window, taking another long drag and letting the smoke drift over him.  
  
“We run this place, me and a few other fellas, and we don’t like people coming in here and dirtying up our home, so to speak.”  
  
Jim frowned deeply and shook his head, “No, we are in and out. Just here to get what we need.”  
  
He turned back to face him, his large belly brushing against the chair causing it to move. “You guys aren’t from anywhere around here. Those are nice guns you have strapped to you. You don’t have the look of someone who walked a great distance so you must have a car. I have my men at the gate bring me any well-off or dangerous people, so which one are you, Mr. Jim.”  
  
“Well, we are not dangerous so…” he finished lamely, glancing over at Brian, obviously not entirely sure what the man was seeking.  
  
“I hope that’s true. For your sake. I trust you will find everything you are looking for here. If there is anything else I can do for you…” He had already moved on, ready to dismiss them. Brian and Pam began to turn when Jim spoke.  
  
“There might be. Do you know of a man named Daniel Mackenzie? He goes by Mac.” Pam’s eyes shot over to him in disbelief that he was asking about Mac, with this rather dangerous man of all people. Jim must think the risk was worth it, out of curiosity and strategy, if nothing else.  
  
Undeniable recognition washed over the man’s features, and he stiffened slightly. “I might. What’s he to you?”  
  
“We’ve just had some dealings with him and was curious. I know he left here at some point.” Zachary’s eyes flittered over to Pam for a brief moment, a fact that didn’t seem to escape Jim’s notice.  
  
The large man sat back down in his opulent chair, “What do you want to know?”  
  
“Why he left here for starters.”  
  
“Well, he was banished. He’s lucky he’s not six feet under instead. It was that bastard brother of his actually. Killed the daughter of a big-time drug runner here. He had gone after her for a while, I guess. I don’t keep up with all that soap opera bullshit. It all went bad when she turned him down and she wound up dead. Mac somehow talked him out of blowing his brains out right then and there. He’s a smooth talker, but I guess you probably know that. Slippery sons of bitches. Anyway, he let them go. If they ever set foot around here, they're dead.” He finished with a wave of his hand.  
  
Jim nodded in understanding. They all began to turn and leave when the man spoke again.  
  
“If I were you, I would shoot both of those fuckers where they stand,” he added quickly, “before they opened their mouths.”  
  
  
  
As they made their way towards the center, she was almost overwhelmed at the number of things being peddled. There were guns, food, pots, costume jewelry, blankets, clothing, just about anything you could imagine, some things she hadn’t seen since Before. She was drawn to a booth with t-shirts, skirts, and other women’s clothing. She slid her hand over the racks, admiring the lack of holes and tears, remembering when shopping for clothes was no big deal. Now it seemed like a wonder.  
  
She turned to say something to Jim and realized he wasn’t there. She saw him about 30 feet away, a thin, rather scantily dressed woman clutching his arm whispering something in his ear. She watched as he shook his head, removed her hand from his arm, and said something to her, turned, and walked toward where Pam was. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and he just shrugged.  
  
“Charming the ladies even now, are you?” She smiled as he got to her.  
  
“Yeah well, I’m nothing but a dick with money to her. It’s sad to see people so desperate.” He looked back at the woman who had moved on to her next potential client.  
  
“It is sad.” She echoed pensively, “I’m very lucky to have you.” She could easily have been that woman, doing what she had to do to survive. They had all been exceptionally lucky with what they had at the farm. She had known that of course, but coming here and seeing the mass of humanity struggling with basic needs and the lengths to which people had taken advantage of each other, made her realize it at a new, profound level. For the most part, they were isolated from the worst of it and she was eternally grateful for that. She couldn’t imagine having her children live in a dangerous place like this.  
  
  
Jim ducked into a booth of defunct electronic parts while Pam admired the knitted blankets and fabrics next door. When he emerged from the crowded little shelter, he looked hopeful. “Apparently there is a guy who comes through once a month that always has orphans with him. He’ll be here tomorrow. I think that should be where we start.”  
  
They went further into the twisted ‘streets’ between the hastily and poorly made structures when the noise and light from one, in particular, became impossible to ignore. There were several large men standing outside armed and when they walked by Pam noticed that it seemed like quite a party. The place was full of men drinking and playing cards and she even saw some banged up pool tables. The women there were clearly there for a reason, she thought to herself, as their clothing or lack of it and actions seemed to indicate, and not all of them seemed to be enjoying themselves. Her stomach turned and she tried not to look as they continued to work their way through the people. Without warning, a pile of men fell in front of them and suddenly the entire street erupted in shouting and fists, forcing them all to stop, blocking the entire way through. Jim pulled Pam behind him instantly and put his hand on his gun. She held on to his left arm and peered around to see the wrestling men on the ground. Suddenly, a large man with a dirty sports jacket and jeans came out of the building.  
  
“You're a cheat, Larry. I’ve warned you before.” He spoke to a man now being wrestled between two very large men and forced to his knees. Without any more comment, he pulled a gun and shot the man in the head. Pam jumped at the gunshot and turned her face into Jim’s shirt. Mayhem erupted, the sound of women screaming and male shouts, and several punches started being thrown.  
  
“Let’s get out of here,” Brian whispered and motioned for them to turn down a narrow alley. “This way,” putting welcomed distance between them and the chaos.  
  
Toby eventually pointed to a collection of wooden buildings and indicated that this hostel was where they should stay for the night. After securing a room for the four of them and sourcing all the items on Larissa’s list, they went their separate ways. Jim and Pam decided to try and find something to eat, eventually finding a man who had hunted turkeys and roasted them. Jim’s mouth watered at the golden brown meat hanging on the rack and he didn’t hesitate to trade a clip of bullets for two meals that they took with them back to the hostel. The primitive room was sparse and small with plywood walls and floors. The roof was made from tin panels and there were four bunk beds attached to the walls with straw-filled canvas mattresses on each. In the corner was a small potbelly stove that kept it adequately warm. There were banged up metal folding chairs sitting around the room so he pulled two up for him and Pam and they contentedly ate their meal near the warmth of the stove.  
  
“Did you get enough to eat?”  
  
“Mmmm, plenty. I’m full. That was so good. I will never think of roasted turkey as just a thanksgiving food again.” She sighed contentedly, caressing her belly and Jim looked over her plate picking off the half-finished turkey leg.  
  
“Where do you think Brian and Toby went off to?” Wiping her hands on the rag napkin and placing it on top.  
  
Jim shrugged and popped another piece of turkey into his mouth. “Eh, after their conversation last night, I suspect they went to a bar to get laid or drunk, or both, who knows.”  
  
“Jim!” She laughed and then realized he was being serious and she looked scandalized. “You don’t think they went to that place we passed, do you? I mean…” she grimaced at a loss for words.  
  
“I doubt it. There are other, more tame, places I’m sure. I’m not going to judge, babe. They are men after all, and lonely. None of my business what they do with the women they meet tonight.” Jim gathered their plates and stacked them on the makeshift table against the wall, taking a long drink from their water jug.  
  
“Yeah, but those women did not look like they were there willingly.”  
  
“I’ve known Brian for a long time and he’s not going to pay for it and he’s definitely not going to be with a girl who doesn’t want to be there, trust me.”  
  
Pam sat with a strange look on her face and he chuckled and pulled her into his arms.  
  
“Let it go, Pam. They’ll be fine.”  
  
“I’m not necessarily worried about them it’s just … disturbing, I guess.”  
  
“Well, not everyone can be as lucky as I am.” His hands began to move under the edge of her shirt, thumbs stroking her warm, smooth skin with the pads of his thumbs, his lips placing soft kisses along her brow and temple.  
  
Her body instantly hummed from his attention, “Does that door lock from the inside?”  
  
A smile crept across his face, “Oh, I will lock it somehow, don’t worry.”  
  
Warmth crept up her neck and her lips quirked in a smile at his enthusiasm, “Good. I imagine that if they are out for a night of fun, we have a little time to ourselves before they get back.” She ran her hands under his shirt up and stroked across his chest, biting her lower lip.  
  
“You read my mind.” He jumped into action, locking the door and putting a folding chair wedged up against it for good measure.  
  
“I was thinking today seeing how terrible people have it here, that I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you.”  
  
He shook his head and reached for her, “Pam, you don’t —“  
  
She put her finger to his lips dragging it down his lower lip slowly, “Shush.”  
  
“And no touching.” He smiled in response with his lopsided grin she loved so much.  
  
She stepped back, slowly starting to unbutton her shirt, “As I was saying… I was thinking about how wonderful you are. How much you love me and our children and how you provide for us.”  
  
Her shirt slipped off her shoulders and dropped to the floor. She kicked off her socks and shoes and started with her pants, never breaking eye contact. He was mesmerized by her little show, her skin glowing in the firelight from the stove, the flickering light drawing shapes on her like a painting. The look of adoration in his green eyes encouraged her to continue.  
  
“That you have given me three children and that you keep us all safe.” Her voice was low and husky now. Her pants dropped to the ground and she stood there in her bra and panties. His eyes were dark as she reached back and snapped her bra undone and let it fall slowly at her feet, her eyes stayed on his even as his lingered down her body in hunger, and it sent a thrill through her that she still had this effect on him. When his eyes reached hers once again she lifted an eyebrow and he responded with a muttered curse.  
  
“I was thinking about how lucky I am that you are a good husband and a good man.” She reached down and pushed her panties down past her thighs, stepping out of them and when he swallowed hard and watched the flimsy material hit the ground, she suspected that he was no longer hearing anything she was saying. She moved to him and pulled his shirt up and over his head sliding her hands down his chest until they met his belt and smiled when his stomach muscles trembled under her fingertips. His breathing was coming in staccato beats now and his hands twitched and clenched into fists as he fought the war within himself to keep them at his sides.  
  
She was almost whispering now her voice full of lust, “About how you love me with this body that turns me on so damn much.” She looked up at him with longing anticipation, shedding the last of his clothes, making them both gloriously naked. She ran her fingertips up the length of him as she slid back up his body and he made a strangled groan that sounded a bit like ‘Oh God’, she couldn’t be sure. She stared openly at his broad muscular shoulders and arms letting her eyes linger on his solid chest and abs with his sprinkling of hair that trailed deliciously down elsewhere. She placed her lips to his chest in an open mouth kiss, deeply inhaling his intoxicating masculine scent, her nipples grazing his stomach as she did so. His entire body trembled in response.  
  
“You are trying to kill me.” He practically growled.  
  
“I’m just trying to show my appreciation,” she said teasingly, and she took his hand and led him to the bed they had claimed. She pushed him to sit and she straddled him, purposefully sliding her warm, supple body over him as she settled and he muttered another incoherent curse into her skin as his hips jerked involuntarily against her.  
  
Finally, she nodded, almost imperceptibly, her permission and he grabbed her face between his large hands, covering her open mouth with his. She could feel his body tremble with need and it made her moan long and low.  
  
“You know what I appreciate?” He spoke into her mouth in a primal way that vibrated low in her belly making warmth pool there, “That you are _mine._ ” He made his point by running hands and lips territorially over every part of her he could reach, marking it as his. She welcomed the heat of his mouth and hands leaving burning trails across her skin, far deeper than the surface. She answered his possession the only way she possibly could, raising slightly, bringing his eyes to hers as she joined them wickedly slowly, watching his face as he filled her completely; the two of them blending into one, their bodies matching what she felt their souls were, inextricably bound together. Sharing a language only they understood with every taste of skin, grasp of flesh, and shivering sigh.

The echos of their rhythmic breathing were all that lingered in the quiet of the room. The heat of the stove and their lovemaking caused the small space to feel almost overly warm. He placed kisses tenderly over her closed eyes and around her face, willing the pounding of their hearts to return to normal. They both felt a hard kick between them and Jim softly chuckled.  
  
“You woke up our son,” he ran his hand down the curve of her.  
  
“Or daughter,” she whispered into his damp hair.  
  
They held each other until their sweat cooled and she shivered.  
  
“It’s cold,” she murmured, “and I need to find the restroom. God only knows where that would be.”  
  
She moved off of him and reached for her bag, finding an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt and putting them on.  
  
“Wait for me.” He said groggily as he regained the function of his limbs. He threw on his pants and shirt, slipped his gun into his waistband, and moved the chair away from the door. They found a restroom on the other side of the makeshift building and he waited outside while she cleaned up and readied for bed.  
  
She finished and returned to the alley where he was waiting patiently outside the bathroom. She saw him standing there, leaning against the wall with his long legs crossed at the ankles, his hands in his pockets, his head down looking at a spot on the ground, his hair was still messy from her hands. All lanky grace and purpose. She was overcome with the truth that she was absolutely created to love this man.  
  
He looked up at her and grinned as she got closer, “Hey. All good?”  
  
She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  
  
“That was interesting. There is not really plumbing, per se.” She mused and he chuckled at her observation.  
  
They returned to the room and quietly curled up together in the same, rather small bed and Jim laid his gun on the ground next to them.  
  
It was almost dawn before Toby and Brian returned, clearly having had several drinks, and startling Jim awake causing him to reach for his weapon before realizing it was them.  
  
“God, you guys are loud.” Jim rubbed his forehead and groaned, sinking back down in the bed and wrapping himself back around Pam’s warm, sleeping form.  
  
“Sorry, man,” Brian mumbled before climbing into his bed and collapsing.

___________

  
The morning came early for all of them but particularly for Brian and Toby who looked like they had been hit by a truck, Pam noted with amusement. The peaceful night had given way to the noise of the day, the building seemingly to have come alive with the sounds of voices, crying babies and loud shouting. Their room was quiet as she worked, packing up her and Jim’s things. She was curious about the previous night but didn’t dare ask. She took Jim at his word that Brian likely didn’t do anything and everything she knew about him spoke to that truth. Brian was very much like Jim which is why they were such good friends. This new Toby, however, was an enigma.  
  
Jim went to go try and find out where exactly this peddler they wanted to talk to might be and Pam made a quick breakfast of biscuits and honey. She handed Toby a plate when he joined her at the tiny stove but he shook his head and grimaced.  
  
“Not hungry, huh? Must have been fun.” she prodded.  
  
He smiled at her but didn’t say anything. He leaned close to her, closer than she was comfortable with and she backed up slightly, trying to not offend him. He turned his back to Brian and lowered his voice, “I meant what I said. I can take care of you if you’ll let me.”  
  
“Oh, Toby.” She let out an exasperated sigh, stepped away, and stood looking down at him. She could feel Brian’s curious eyes on her back.  
  
“Please hear me. I belong with Jim. I will _always_ be his.”  
  
He shook his head and looked down. She shifted so she was eye to eye to him and he looked at her again.  
  
“I don’t think you are listening and I don’t know how else to say this. He is my soulmate and the father of my children and that will never change. Ever. Not for anyone or anything.”  
  
Her voice was almost pleading and he began to speak but she motioned for him to let her finish.  
  
“I don’t know where this is coming from or if I’ve somehow led you to believe that there is something between us besides friendship… It will never happen, I’m sorry.”  
  
She looked at him with empathy. She really did feel bad for him but she wasn’t sure where this delusion came from and why he would think she would ever leave her husband. He felt like a stranger now that she never knew at all.  
  
“What if he left you and the kids? What would you do?”  
  
A quiet scoff came from Brian behind her and she was reminded he was listening.  
  
“He wouldn’t do that. Come on. Let’s get finished with this and get home. I’m sure you miss Sasha.”  
  
Worry gnawed at the back of her mind at his deep hatred of Jim but she pushed it aside. Today had enough to worry about on its own.  
  
Toby shook his head and stood to start packing his things.  
  
___________  
  
They made their way to the area Jim had been told this man would be. As they went deeper into the center of the stadium the people and sellers noticeably shifted. Groups of men stood and watched them pass and they began to feel more and more unwelcome. They all avoided eye contact with anyone; trying not to attract any more attention.  
  
Jim noticed the bright green tarp and the sign that read ‘Gas cans- Cheap’ written on a piece of wood. “I think this is it.”  
  
“Hey,” he lowered his voice and they gathered around him, “I think I should go in alone.”  
  
Brian’s questioning eyes met his, “Why?”  
  
“I just don’t want to spook this guy,” he looked at Brian and nodded at Pam, “Watch things out here?” his meaning clear.  
  
“You got it.” Brian pulled his pistol out and rested it at his side.  
  
He squeezed Pam’s hand and with a quick glance at her, he ducked his head under the tarp.  
  
The makeshift room wasn’t much more than a lean-to enclosed with old tarps. The smell was an almost overwhelming mixture of mildew and sewer. He noticed a box truck backed up in the rear, its back gate open, and the nasty smell seemingly coming from there.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
A rough-looking man in his fifties with a brownish-grey beard came out from behind the side tarp wall. His jeans, once blue, were so dirty they were now more tan and the white t-shirt he wore was littered with stains. He eyed Jim suspiciously. “Can I help you?”  
  
“I hope so. I’m looking for a couple of kids.”  
  
The man stood straighter, “I sell gas cans, dude. Did you see the sign?”  
  
“I was told differently.”  
  
The man scoffed and turned to leave.  
  
“Listen, I don’t care what you do. I’m not interested. I’m just looking for these kids, okay?”  
  
The man studied him, scratching some unseen spot on his chest. “What do you want them for?”  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
He smiled slightly, missing several teeth, “I don’t give a shit as long as you pay. I get you rich assholes in here all the time. Follow me.”  
  
He led them back to a separate shanty-like structure behind the truck. When he opened the tarp, the smell hit him again, making his eyes water. Inside was a straw floor and three people tied to a long metal pipe that seemed to run deep into the ground. Jim’s eyes slowly adjusted to the low light and he noticed that it was in fact, two children and a woman.  
  
“Just got in this mornin’ with these. They’re healthy. The woman isn’t used up as far as I can tell.”  
  
Jim tamped down his disgust that he spoke about them like livestock. He resisted the urge to punch the guy but if he was going to get them all out of this hell hole alive, he had to play the game.  
  
“Simon and Rebecca?”  
  
The two children immediately looked up but they didn’t recognize Jim so they didn’t say anything. The girl had a red bandana around her neck and that was all the confirmation he needed. Now that his eyes had fully adjusted, he could see all three were extremely dirty and thin. The young woman looked to be in her late twenties, with bruises down her arms and a cut lip. She stared at the ground not once looking up at either one of them.  
  
“How much?” Jim’s stomach turned asking the question.  
  
The man coughed like a smoker for a solid ten seconds and then stroked his beard pretending to contemplate a price. “If you are willing to part with that rifle on your back, you can have all three.”  
  
Jim quickly weighed his options. The last thing he wanted to do was give this absolutely disgusting excuse for a man a weapon so that he could use it for trafficking more women and children. If he just shot him it would attract way too much attention and possibly put Pam in danger, which was not even an option.  
  
Reluctantly, he pulled the rifle over his head, but took out the magazine and stuffed it in his belt. He slowly laid the gun on the upturned wooden cable spool next to him.  
  
“Untie them.”  
  
The man reached down and pulled the ropes loose and they all stood slowly.  
  
“Come on,” Jim said gently and motioned for them to follow him. He just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.  
  
When he emerged from the tent with two kids, one woman and no rifle he was met with raised eyebrows from Pam, Brian, and Toby. He just shook his head and motioned to leave. They were being watched closely and he didn’t want to stop and explain there.  
  
No one said a word until they reached the truck hidden a mile from the edge of the city. Pam bent down to the kids and began asking them questions and giving them water stored in the truck. Jim turned to the young woman.  
  
“What’s your name?” She looked at him, her brown eyes were sad and dead, and she didn’t respond. She was about the same height as Pam and her dark hair was dirty and tangled. Despite the cool temperatures, her skimpy clothing barely covered her and was torn in several places.  
  
“Hey, you are free to go wherever you want, you don’t have to stay here. If you want to come with us, you can. We have a farm far away from here. Or we can see about getting you back to where ever you came from. Do you have a home?”  
  
She shook her head slowly. He exhaled, feeling like he was making progress. “Ok. Do you want to go with us?”  
  
She stared at him for a long moment until Pam walked over and stood at his side and the woman looked at her. “It’s safe. We are good people.” Pam added softly.  
  
She nodded again. Pam smiled and handed her a jug of water and one of her sweaters.  
  
“Take my sweater. You must be getting cold.”  
  
Pam and Jim watched as she shyly took it from Pam’s hand. Jim walked away to give her privacy but Pam stayed, noticing the obvious hand-shaped bruises and deep scars on her arms as she pulled it over her head.  
  
“I’m Pam, by the way.” Pam smiled at her warmly.  
  
“Isabel,” she said barely above a whisper.  
  
“Isabel,” Pam repeated with a smile. “The one in the blue shirt is my husband Jim, and that’s Brian and Toby. Nobody will hurt you here, I promise.” For whatever it was worth, Pam felt the need to make that clear.  
  
“Baby.” Isabel gestured at her belly and Pam instinctively stroked it and smiled as she spoke.  
  
“Yes, a baby. Jim and I have two other children at home, a girl and a boy.”  
  
A whisper of a smile formed on Isabel’s lips.

_____________

  
  
They stopped at an abandoned strip mall on the side of the road to fill the tank with gas and give the kids a chance to stretch their legs. Jim grabbed a rifle and walked to the stores hoping there might be something left to salvage. Brian followed him wordlessly, seizing the opportunity.  
  
They walked into what looked to be an old toy store. Jim looked around silently and smiled when he saw a wooden plane at the back of the shelf, grabbing it and stuffing it in his coat pocket.  
  
“Hey, I don’t want to overstep my place.” Brian started. Jim looked up and met his eyes questioningly as he moved down the aisle.  
  
“While you were gone this morning,” he paused uncomfortably, “Toby was hitting on Pam. She told him to back the fuck off, of course, because she’s well ...Pam.” Jim smirked at this apt description of his wife.  
  
“But I thought you would want to know. I would want to know,” he finished.  
  
“Yeah. Thanks.” Jim rubbed his beard. He felt he owed him some explanation at his non-reaction.  
  
“He worked with us Before. He’s always liked her I guess but it seemed harmless. I mean, once he was pretty ballsy and put his hand on her thigh right in front of me. Since he got here he’s been weird though. He’s our friend but he’s starting to get annoying with this obsession with her…I don’t know.” Jim shook his head and looked away.  
  
“Well, I’d keep an eye on him. Watch your back. The way he was looking at her, he didn’t hear a word she said.”  
  
“Wonderful.” Jim rolled his eyes.  
  
“But hey, the good news? That woman loves you, man, like crazy. Lucky bastard.” Brian smiled and shoved Jim and they both chuckled.  
  
He saw a puzzle that had pictures of horses and he pulled it from the shelf.  
  
“Cece will like this.”


	10. There's Nothing I'm Planning to Take

The sky was a deep blue, the scattered clouds highlighted by the moon as they passed in front of it. The wind had thankfully died down considerably but there was still a damp chill in the air that made them shiver; a stillness that felt hauntingly peaceful. They stopped for the night at the same place they did on the way in. Pam tried to make a suitable meal based on what was left that they brought but there wasn’t much. 

“I can go hunt?” Brian offered but Jim shook his head.

“It might take you hours to find something. I think we’ll be okay. We’ll be home tomorrow.”  
  
Brian looked over at Isabel, sitting off by herself leaning against the tire of the truck. She looked small and cold and he felt compelled to make her comfortable. He reached down into his bag, “I’m going to give her my blankets.”  
  
“Wait. Let Pam do it. She’s still scared of us.” Jim said quietly as he handed Pam the blankets and she walked over to Isabel.  
  
Brian watched shaking his head, “I just don’t understand how any man could do that. Did you see her arms?”  
  
Jim looked down, pushing a small rock into the dirt with his boot, “Yeah,” he said sorrowfully, “Real men don’t do that, they do the opposite actually. At least that’s what my dad used to tell me and my brothers.”  
  
Brian stood thoughtfully for a moment, “He was a great guy.”  
  
“He was.” Jim smiled at the memory of his father.  
  
“Remember in college, when we tried to drive that piece of shit car of yours to New York and it broke down. He drove all the way to get us and instead of being mad at our dumb asses, we stopped at that dive bar and had a beer.”  
  
Jim laughed, earning him a quizzical look from Pam and Isabel. “Those guys playing darts that we messed with? We had them convinced we were undercover ATF agents and that the bar was under investigation for being a front for the Mob.”  
  
Their mutual chuckles faded into the night air as the moon fell behind another cloud, taking with it the memories of moments long passed.  
  
  
The food was finally warmed and Pam dished out portions for the children and Isabel and left the rest for the men. They all sat near the fire, enjoying listening to Simon and Rebecca talk about their pet goat they couldn’t wait to see again while devouring their food.  
  
Pam was almost finished eating herself when Jim put his biscuit on her plate.  
  
Pam shook her head, “Jim, that leaves you barely anything, come on. Stop trying to give me your food.”  
  
He shrugged and took a bite of his beef jerky, “I’m fine. Besides you’re growing my son in there.”  
  
She shook her head at him, “Or daughter.”  
  
“I just know it’s a boy, Pam.” He said matter of factly as he wiped his hands on his jeans.  
  
“Oh, okay.” She smiled mockingly and nudged him with her elbow. He leaned over and kissed her head, lingering there for a moment. She cleared her throat to get his attention when she realized everyone around the fire was watching them.  
  
“Well...I’m getting tired, you kids ready for bed?” She rose quickly and ushered the kids over to where their beds had been made. Isabel quietly got up with her, not wanting to be left alone.  
  
___________  
  
There were very few birds left this far north and After, so only the sound of the steady wind filled her ears as she became conscious in the chalk grey light of dawn transitioning from night to day. Half-dozing, Pam stretched, her muscles and bones protesting their abuse; the hard ground not nearly as comfortable as her mattress at home. Jim’s solid mass was behind her, and she could hear his steady breathing as he slept. She arched her spine to loosen it, trying her best to move without waking him, not quite ready to leave the warmth of their blankets; her mind already working on what she would need to make breakfast for the group.  
  
Jim’s hand grabbed tightly on her hip, stilling her. “You have _got_ to stop that.” His voice gravelly and deep in her ear.  
  
Awareness came to her instantly that her husband was very much awake behind her, the evidence she now felt resting between them. She smiled, feeling feline and powerful.  
  
She pressed into him infinitesimally and his grip on her tightened.  
  
“I mean it,” he hissed, the desire in his voice mixing with anguish. “Or I am going to have a very big problem that I can’t do anything about here.” The sounds of sleeping bodies all around them punctuated his words.  
  
She turned, looking over her shoulder, reaching behind her taking him into her hand, “I happen to be quite a fan of this very big problem.”  
  
A reluctant groan accompanied his hips jerking away, “You are a cruel, cruel woman.”  
  
She rolled over and reached for him again, “I can take care of that for you...if you want.” Her whisper was smooth like warm honey. He closed his eyes, contemplating the feeling of her small hand on him for a moment before the cold reality of their circumstances brought him back.  
  
“No, messy,” he managed to mumble with a remorseful sigh.  
  
“Okay,” not even trying to hide the disappointment in her voice, “I’m going to go get the fire going and start breakfast.” She slipped out of their cocoon of blankets into the cold morning air with a small shiver.  
  
“I’ll just be here, thinking about Dwight in his underwear.”  
  
Her soft giggle followed her as she walked away.  
  
____________  
  
When they rolled up at the front gate, Jim couldn’t have been happier to see the old dirt road, orange-red gate buffered by their barrier, and the big yellow farmhouse. Two men with rifles stood when they turned the corner, but climbed down to get the gate when they realized it was them.  
  
“Hey, Jim! Welcome home.” A new man named Charlie walked up to the driver’s side window.  
  
“It’s good to be home. Any issues?”  
  
“No. There’s a new baby, though.”  
  
Pam shot forward to look around Jim, “Erin had the baby? Are they okay?”  
  
“As far as I know, yeah. The Doc seemed happy. Mac hasn’t been seen for days. Maybe they up and left?”  
  
“We wouldn’t be that lucky,” Jim replied, and with that Charlie pounded the side of the truck and they drove on through.  
  
“Aww, I missed it.” She sat back, defeated.  
  
Jim chuckled at her reaction, “I’m sure Erin did just fine without your help.”

* * *

  
  
The Miller family insisted on a celebration on the return of the children and Pam wanted to acknowledge the birth of Joshua. She had fawned over Erin and Pete’s new little one endlessly, wanting to hear all about what had happened while she was away until Jim had convinced her that the new family probably wanted some alone time. Their uneventful birth with Dr. Brooks had given him some confidence in his abilities and there was a collective sigh of relief among everyone.  
  
The house was warm and full of smiling faces and drinks and it was a welcomed change from the always present worry of the threats around them. A new baby and children stolen back from the horrible clutches of this world seemed to fill everyone with an unspoken hope. Maybe the world wouldn’t always be a dark place.  
  
Brian walked up to Jim with two whiskeys in his hand. “You have to try this. This stuff is excellent.”  
  
“I know, I had one already. Widow Miller practically poured it down my throat.”  
  
Brian made a face, “Okay, that’s a visual I didn’t need. Here, have another.”  
  
“No, I can’t _drink_ drink, you know that. Mac will be back any time now, I can feel it.”  
  
“Shut up, you idiot. You’ve got two extra guys on the gate and an extra patrol. Take the night off for once.” He pushed the drink at his hand again.  
  
Jim took the glass, “It is a good whiskey.” Brian nodded his head as he took a drink. “I haven’t decided whether you are the good kind of friend to have, or not.”  
  
Brian laughed, “Good! The answer is always ‘good.’ Come on, let’s go see if we can get the new dad to join us.”

_____________

  
  
Pam wanted to see that Isabel got a room set up in the main house so she had some of the teenage boys move a bed into a third-floor room that wasn’t being used for anything. It was cozy and clean by the time Pam was finished and she borrowed some clothes from her closet and some of the other ladies so that she could be more comfortable.  
  
“Here’s a key to the door,” she handed her an old fashioned key, “It’s the only copy so you can lock it and no one can get in. I want you to feel safe. The men here won’t hurt you. My children sleep right downstairs and if I didn’t feel it was safe, they wouldn’t sleep alone, okay?”  
  
She nodded and set the clothes on the bed.  
  
“If you need anything medical, Jim’s sister is a nurse and she can help you, just let me know. There is a bit of a celebration tonight for the children coming home and the new baby. I don’t know if you’re comfortable with any of that but you are welcome to come. If you do, look for me okay? I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”  
  
Isabel smiled for the first time in a very long time.  
  
  
Inspired by some of the clothes she had seen at Tent City, Pam had decided to wear a knee-length skirt she had found last year but never worn. It was cute and swished a bit when she walked and fit nicely under her little bump. She thought it would be a great night to finally wear it.  
  
She made her way down to the main living area where everyone had gathered, smiling, and greeting those she passed.  
  
Without warning, the large, solid form of her husband was at her side. “You’re wearing a skirt.” His low, only-for-her voice tickling her ear while his thumb made small circles on her wrist.  
  
“Very astute observation, Jim.” She said coyly.  
  
“How do you expect me to concentrate on anything tonight?”  
  
Pam laughed and looked down, “You are ridiculous. I wore a skirt around you for years.”  
  
He smiled down at her, the three whiskeys he had starting to swirl warm in his mind, “Well, for years I didn’t have carnal knowledge of what’s underneath it and after that, well...I wasn’t necessarily a Boy Scout.”  
  
“No, you certainly were not.” She laughed a smile, flush creeping up her chest at the memory of desperate sex against the wall in the camera room and stolen moments on the stairwell.  
  
He pulled her closer, his large hand spanning her waist easily, lips lightly brushing her ear with his raspy whisper, “It’s not my fault being this close to you is so physically distracting.”  
  
A shivering sigh escaped her lips. He still had this amazing ability to make her stomach flutter.  
  
“I think Nicolas and Jeff are trying to get your attention, you better go see what they need.”  
  
He leaned back, “Nice distract and deflect there, Beesly. I’ll be back.” He kissed her temple and walked away with a smile.  
  
  
Jim was offered drinks all night for his part in the return of the Miller kids and it wasn’t long until they started to take their effect. Pam watched him from a distance, amused at his increasing volume and talkativeness, likely only noticeable to those who knew him well. She had only seen him drunk a handful of times and she always found it humorous.  
  
Later in the evening, he made his way back over to her, “I need you to come with me.” The tone of his voice told her exactly what he needed, and she smiled knowingly at him. He took her hand and led her out of the main room.  
  
“Where are we going?” She giggled as he frustratingly seemed to find people in every room he tried. He went through the kitchen and down to the cellar.  
  
“We’re in the cellar, Jim.”  
  
He pulled her to him finally, no other people, just their heated bodies against each other, “Very astute observation, Pam.”  
  
“Ha Ha.”  
  
She loved him like this. Old Jim. The alcohol momentarily stripping away the damage that had been done to him. Even though she felt exposed and slightly nervous to be doing this here, the pressure and weight of everything was missing here in this dark, quiet space and she wanted to enjoy it.  
  
“You can’t wear this around me,” he said low and hungry. He slipped his hand under the hem of her skirt and slid it up the smooth outside of her thigh, running it over the curve of her ass, squeezing and pulling her against him more. “All I’ve been thinking about all night is how I could do this so easily.” He moved his hand between her legs and she closed her eyes, exhaling his name.  
  
A sound that reached the ears of another.  
  


_______________

  
Toby just wanted to be alone and drink. Too many people and too much noise upstairs. He sought the quiet respite of the cellar, the sad four walls of his room seemed far too pathetic, even for him. He had struck out with one of the new women here on the farm. She basically told him to leave her alone. He assumed he would be alone for the rest of his life except for the occasional prostitute. The one he really wanted refused to hear reason. He took a drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol down his throat, cursing internally. Pam wouldn’t listen to him. He was so much better for her, why couldn’t she see that? She had this frustrating habit of choosing men that were dickheads, ignoring the obvious choice right in front of her. He always had been a better choice, he was just finally brave enough to say something. It was now or never any more. No more subtlety when you might die the next day. He had gone with them to keep an eye on her, hoping he would have a chance to prove himself to her but that chance never came.  
  
Now he just wanted to get drunk enough to not care about anything.  
  
He was halfway through his mason jar of moonshine when the cellar door flew open and lamplight flooded the room. He shifted his outstretched legs to hide them behind a box. His own lantern was sitting several feet away on the shelf but he didn’t dare retrieve it now. Maybe whoever this was would leave and let him get back to his drinking in peace.  
  
That’s when he heard her soft giggle and beautiful voice, “We’re in the cellar, Jim.”  
  
Of course, she was with him, Jim _fucking_ Halpert, always in the way he thought bitterly, looking down at the clear liquid in his hand.  
  
He could see their profile as Jim pulled her close and he was about to turn away in disgust and get the hell out of there but then Jim pulled her skirt up and Toby saw the length of her lovely thigh and the edge of her ass as he stroked it. Jim moved his hand between her legs and she made a sound Toby had never heard Pam make before but it went straight to his dick. He knew he shouldn’t be here and watch this but honestly, he didn’t give a shit anymore. He might not ever get to have Pam but he could at least have this.  
  
“Jim...”  
  
“Yes, beautiful?” His low voice muffled from being buried in her hair behind her ear.  
  
“You know we have a room... in this very house. We don’t have to do this down here,” Pam whispered while Jim was kissing down her neck.  
  
“Isn’t this exciting though? Someone could walk in on us.” He moved his hand up her body to where his mouth was, shifting his attention to the other side of her neck while he continued, “And if people saw us walking upstairs together, they might start talking. It would be the scandal of the evening.”  
  
She chuckled softly, “You, James Duncan, are drunk.”  
  
“Maybe. That’s a possibility...yes.”  
  
Maybe he won’t be able to get it up, Toby thought humorously as he shifted slightly from where he was sitting hoping he could be witness to Jim’s humiliation if nothing else.  
  
She giggled and he pushed her shirt up and pulled the cup of her bra down and dropped his mouth to her. Toby saw a glimpse of it and he about lost it. She was more perfect than he had imagined but a hint of nervousness entered his thoughts. He was past the point of no return. If Jim caught him now, he would have no way of explaining himself.  
  
“Oh, how I love your breasts.” He mumbled while lavishing attention on one with his lips and hand on the other.  
  
“They love you,” she said breathlessly with a small laugh, “Are you going to wax poetic about them?”  
  
Jim popped his head up from under her shirt to look at her, his hair mussed, “Do you want me to? I can.”  
  
She laughed warmly, “No, that’s okay.” He smirked devilishly at her and resumed his ministrations.  
  
He lifted her on the table and the change in angle made him see more of Jim’s back than Pam. Toby cursed silently in frustration but didn’t dare move.  
  
“Oh Pam, you are _so wet_. God, I love that.”  
  
“Shhhhhhhh! Will you be quiet! You are so loud.” she laughed.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He whispered loudly.  
  
She put her hand on his cheek, sliding it down to rest on his upper arm, “I love you but you are just so vocal when you’re drunk. I’m afraid someone will hear us.”  
  
“Who cares,” he said leaning down, nuzzling her neck, “You are my wife and I can make love to my wife if I want,” as he bent down and pulled her other nipple into his mouth, her shirt bunched up under her neck.  
  
“Well yes, but that doesn’t mean we can just do that anywhere,” she was laughing again and this time it faded into a quiet moan in response to his mouth and hands. Her fingers slowly drug down the back of his head to the hair at the top of his neck, her head dropped back in pleasure.  
  
There were the sounds of a belt and zipper then.  
  
“Fu—, Pam...” he seemingly struggled to form words.  
  
“Will you shut up and kiss me instead of talking.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured.  
  
The room filled with sighs and moans and wet lips on skin when one of her legs hooked behind his, rubbing up and down the back of his thigh.  
  
“I need you to lose these.” He spoke hungrily, pushing her skirt up to her waist and slowly pulling her panties off, slipping them off her leg while they stared at each other longingly in anticipation. Toby watched the black piece of clothing fall to the ground behind them and he wished he had a better view because he could only see the outside of her thigh and Jim’s back. There was a shifting her to the edge as Jim wrapped her legs behind him and then he heard Pam’s soft, high gasp and Jim’s deep groan.  
  
“So good, always _so damn good._ ”  
  
“Shhhh,” she sighed.  
  
Pam leaned back on her elbows on the tall wooden table and Toby could see the edge of her face now. She was looking up at him with pure adoration, her lips slightly parted, lust written all over her by his body and words. Jim kept rambling incoherently, thoughts mindlessly falling from his lips while he reached up under her shirt that still concealed her, to stroke her breast.  
  
“Beautiful... love you...so much... so completely yours.”  
  
“Shhhhhh. Yes, baby, I love you too,” She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the pleasure coursing through her body, “Only you...forever,” she whispered to him.  
  
The instinctive, rhythmic sounds of skin and bodies and Pam’s legs both wrapped around his back were all Toby could see and hear for several minutes.  
  
Jim’s hand came up to her face, palming her cheek softly, his thumb gliding across her lower lip before dragging it down her body over her disheveled shirt, finally disappearing between them. “Come for me, baby,” soft and barely above a whisper, drifted into the cool, damp air of the room.  
  
Pam’s eyes closed again and her head fell back as she arched with a soft moan, her hair waving back and forth with each motion of Jim’s body.  
  
Toby started to feel guilty for watching this now. His consciousness pricked at being here for something so personal as an orgasm. She would be angry at him if she knew.  
  
Her quiet, whispered gasps of Jim’s name, filled his ears and he gripped his glass, dangerously close to shattering it.  
  
The way he held her hips still and tightly to him with a long, deep groan, caused raging envy to fill every pore of Toby’s body and any guilt he had was gone. He hated that man. It burned through him like a consuming fire.  
  
She pushed off her elbows to rise up to him. He was kissing her softly now, whispering to her something Toby couldn’t hear between each one. Her hands rubbed over his grey sweater on his back and moved up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck.  
  
She unhooked her legs and he moved back a step to buckle his pants, “So when are you wearing this skirt again?”  
  
She just gave a mirthful chuckle in response.  
  
“We need to get back, people will be missing us. And maybe you should start drinking some water.”  
  
He reached down and grabbed her panties from the ground and handed them to her, kissing her softly again. He helped her down, she straighten his shirt under his sweater and he smoothed her skirt in the back and they left the cellar and Toby.  
  
Toby took a long drink from his jar.  
  


______________

  
She found him laughing with Brian and another drink was handed to both of them with a handshake and pat on the back.  
  
“Nope, trade you,” she took the glass of beer and replaced it with the glass of water, “You’ll thank me in the morning.”  
  
He leaned in close, his hand moving up to her waist, his finger slipping slightly under the hem of her shirt, “What would I do without you?”  
  
She smiled trying to give him her best ‘don’t-start-again’ look, “I see Isabel, I’m going to make sure she’s okay.”  
  
Brian’s eyes shot up and he watched her from across the room. Isabel had walked into the large Living Room, hesitantly looking around at all the people. She looked cleaned up and comfortable in her new clothes, Pam noted. Her dark brown hair, now clean and brushed, fell in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back.  
  
“Hey there,” Pam walked up with a warm smile.  
  
“Hi. Thank you for the clothes,” she said softly, tugging at the long sleeves with her fingers.  
  
“Yeah, no problem. We’ll get you some more tomorrow. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Pam turned towards the kitchen, “But can I talk to Jim first?”  
  
She stopped, slightly surprised, “Yeah sure, he’s right over there.” Isabel hesitated seemingly waiting for Pam, so she lead the way.  
  
Pam slipped up behind Jim, her hand sliding around his arm to get his attention and he turned.  
  
“Oh hey Isabel, how are you?” Jim said when he saw her.  
  
“Hi. I just wanted to say thank you for everything. It’s a very nice place you have.”  
  
“Oh, it’s not mine,” he shook his head quickly, “But yeah, no problem. We’re glad you are here.”  
  
Brian smiled and nodded in agreement with Jim’s words.  
  
The ladies walked off towards the kitchen and Brian took a drink of his beer while he watched them.  
  
“She looks happy,” his genuine smile revealing more than he intended.  
  
  
The night was winding down and Pam started looking for Cece and Phil who she had last seen running out the front door with several other kids. She moved over to where Jim was sitting on the arm of the couch talking with Jeff and Brian. She slid her hand down his back and kissed him quickly on his temple, “Have you seen your daughter and son? I’m ready to call it a night.”  
  
He looked up at her, “Let’s see if they’re outside.” He set down his glass of water and said goodnight to them.  
  
They walked outside around the back of the house, saying goodnight to those they passed. His large hand warmly wrapped around hers. She saw Toby sitting quietly on the steps.  
  
“Hey Toby, have you seen Cece or Phil go by here? We can’t find them.”  
  
Toby pushed off the steps and stood, “No.”  
  
“Can’t keep track of your kids either, asshole?” He mumbled as he turned away.  
  
“What was that?” Jim stopped, the alcohol in his system allowing for very little patience.  
  
He turned to face Jim, his eyes bloodshot and clearly beyond drunk, “I said...you can’t keep track of your kids and one day you are going to wake up and she’s going to be gone too.”  
  
“Oh no,” Pam whispered.  
  
Before she could defuse the situation, Jim had slammed Toby against the exterior wall of the house so hard it drew Brian outside to the porch, where he watched Jim in case he was needed. Pam had no idea what an intoxicated Jim and a very drunk Toby might do, so she was thankful he appeared.  
  
“You just don’t take a hint, do you?” Jim was standing face to face with him.  
  
“Jim, come on, let’s go.” Pam urged.  
  
Toby ignored her, “You don’t deserve her, screwing her on a table in the basement like she’s a whore. She’s better than that.” He spat out, hatred dripping off his words.  
  
Jim and Pam looked at each other shocked, processing what he just said. Then they both turned to him shouting simultaneously.  
  
“Oh my God, you _watched us_? I can’t believe you, Toby!” Pam yelled.  
  
“What the hell, man! Why would you do that? What kind of sick bastard are you?” Jim added.  
  
He defiantly smirked at Jim.  
  
“Stay away from us.” Jim looked Toby cold in the eyes.  
  
Pam put her hand on Jim’s chest, “Jim. Jim, look at me.” He couldn’t pull his angry stare away from Toby. He didn’t even want to begin to think about what he saw and heard. He very well could have seen everything, including places on his wife no one else had any business seeing and he resisted the strong urge to punch him, _extremely_ hard.  
  
“Look. At. Me.” Finally, her voice broke through and he looked down at her, adrenaline and anger causing his breathing to be heavy.  
  
“He’s not worth it. Come on, let’s go.”  
  
Jim slowly backed away. Pam looked back at Toby and shook her head in disappointed disgust.  
  
After they had rounded the corner of the house, Brian took a long drink from his beer, “Man, you have done it now. Word of advice, I would not piss off Jim when it comes to _her._ You will _not_ win that fight, man.” Brian turned and went back inside, leaving Toby alone.  
  
That was the last time any of them saw him.

______________ 

  
  
Jim’s head throbbed and the light coming in the bedroom window was painfully bright. He hadn’t thrown up but he was beginning to think it might have been a good idea because he felt like shit. He grabbed Pam’s abandoned pillow and pulled it over his head, enjoying the darkness and cool the soft cotton brought to his face. He heard the bedroom door open and Pam’s small footsteps making their way over to the bed. He pulled a corner up to squint at her.  
  
“How are you feeling there, champ?”  
  
“Ugh,” was all he managed.  
  
“Here, aspirin and water. Of course, it’s five years expired so you’re taking your chances.”  
  
He sat up slowly and took the glass from her swigging the pills down quickly.  
  
“Nope, all of it.” She prodded and he grudgingly obliged.  
  
“Toby’s gone,” she added softly, “All his stuff is cleaned out of his room. He left without Sasha and she is devastated.”  
  
“Oh my God,” Jim ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, “Pam, I know you might be mad at me but I don’t regret what I said to him last night. I mean, God knows what he saw of us... of you?” Jim shook his head and pulled his hand over his beard, “That was way, way over the line and it really pisses me off.”  
  
“Oh, so you do remember last night?”  
  
He tilted his head and gave her a look and she continued. “I know, I agree. It feels extremely violating, I don’t even remember what we said to each other and the way I was up on there half-naked…that is… private. We shouldn’t have done that there.” Her face reddened at the thought and she twisted her hands in her lap.  
  
“Or, he could have told us he was there when we walked in.”  
  
“I just hate that all of this happened. I was so hopeful.”  
  
“I know,” he rubbed her back softly.  
  
  
The demands of the day came despite his hangover and construction continued despite the pounding in his head. As he stood on the porch placing a filled water bottle into his backpack, he looked around at the flurry of activity surrounding him. The farmyard was beginning to look more and more like a village with every passing day. There was a man who was a Farrier Before who had now set up a small shop right off the yard. Brian and Jim had found an old lumber sawmill in a nearby abandoned town and they had broken it down and brought it back to the farm making it easier to make their own lumber, not having to salvage it from other buildings. Small wooden homes and fenced gardens speckled the open fields surrounding the main house, some were mere frames still, their wooden bones stretching canvas and silk across their shapes. He hoped that today they would find a solution for the salt shortage, a surprisingly critical need. They couldn’t survive without it.  
  
“You ready?” Jim noticed Brian coming from the back of the house, through the open front door.  
  
“Does it feel early to you? It feels early to me.” Brian squinted at the light beyond the shade of the porch.  
  
“That was a great idea, last night, thank you. Now we have to find this mine today feeling like shit.”  
  
“Whatever. You had fun.” Brian swung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his rifle, checking the clip. “I heard about Toby. Where do you think he went? And why would he leave his daughter?”  
  
Jim shook his head while he stuffed the last of his supplies into his backpack. “God, I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking anymore. He pissed me off though.”  
  
“Yeah, that was…I don’t know what that was but I don’t blame you.”  
  
Jim loaded the extra gas cans and threw his bag on top, “Pam’s embarrassed now and I mean, who does that?”  
  
Brian shook his head as Pete walked up behind him with his bag and rifle, “Oh hey man, I didn’t think you were coming today. How’s Erin and Joshua?”  
  
“They’re good,” he paused and they both looked at him questioningly. “Erin suggested I go,” he rubbed the strap of his bag where it pulled over his shoulder, “I think I’m starting to drive her nuts.”  
  
Brian laughed as he swung into the cab of the truck, “Oh, I’m not touching that one. Let’s get on the road.”  
  
“Wait!” Pam’s voice stopped Jim as he pulled open the driver’s side door with a loud scraping sound. She and Isabel had appeared on the front porch and she moved down the steps to the open door where he was. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye.”  
  
His voice lowered in an attempt to not be overheard, “We will be right back. We’re just scouting this mine. We probably won’t see a soul.”  
  
“Well, in any case, be careful.” She grabbed the edges of his open coat and pulled him down for a kiss.  
  
He smiled as he closed the door, “I always am.”   
  
“I doubt that.” She lifted her voice over the cab of the truck, “Brian, don’t let him do anything stupid, please.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am!” He answered, the sarcasm clear as he smiled slightly at Isabel on the porch as the truck pulled away.  
  


* * *

  
  
Toby walked right up to the front door of old Roger’s homestead and knocked on the door. He noticed that the farmhouse had seen better days. Trash was scattered on the porch and yard, the internal organs and skin of an opossum discarded and left next to the front steps. Several deer heads and legs were piled near the tree next to the barn and had begun to decompose. After several minutes of knocking, a large, rough-looking man answered the door, smelling of body odor and alcohol.  
  
“Jesus, what the hell is all the racket?”  
  
“I need to speak to a man named Mac. I have some information about Jim Halpert he will want to know.”

* * *

  
  
True to the map and information Jeff had supplied them, the gate of the mine came into view around the turn. The old, long-neglected road was all cracked pavement and overgrown trees. It was long past noon now, the still morning air had given way to a stirring of the clouds, their churning forms turning the sky from blue to grey. The sign on the chain-link fence hung on by its last corner, refusing to give in to time and nature. The paint chipped and weathered letters revealed ‘Hopper’s Mining Company’ and Jim figured that the sign was older than he was. The gate was opened, the chain hung busted on one the of sections. They pulled in slowly, as the narrow passageway opened up to a large paved area in front of an old mining building built against the side of the towering face of a mountain, its once white walls turning red-brown with rust and decay. The tall shaft head reaching several stories in the air, a dizzying crisscross of metal.  
  
They parked the truck behind one of the buildings and, with practiced skill, loaded and checked each of their weapons. Silently they made their way towards the opening of the mine at the base of the mountain, moving close alongside the walls of each building systematically. As Jim edged around a corner, he immediately retreated, flattening his back against the wall, causing Pete to stumble slightly into Brian. They matched his movement, not knowing why, but trusting his judgment.  
  
“Mac.” Jim soundlessly mouthed to them.  
  
“No fucking way,” Brian whispered and Jim nodded affirmatively.  
  
Jim peered around the corner slowly, jerking back suddenly when he noticed one of Mac’s men break off from the group and walk directly towards them. Jim made eye contact with them both and put his finger to his lips. They stood frozen, their heads and bodies as close to the wall as possible, waiting for the man to pass by. Instead, they began to hear the sound of liquid splashing against the building and the ground below. Brian scrunched up his face and looked over at Jim as he leaned forward just enough to look around the corner again, coming face to face with a dirty man relieving himself on the building.  
  
What happened next seemed to be simultaneous. The man met Jim’s eyes in shock and began to speak but before he could, Jim grabbed his neck in a chokehold, putting his pistol to his head while Brian reached down and pulled the man’s weapon from its holster. The man struggled against Jim but his arm’s vice grip around his neck was too solid.  
  
“You fucking idiots are dead, you know that?” The man spit out while he struggled.  
  
“Shut up and walk,” Jim said gruffly as he pulled him in the direction of the circle of men Mac stood with. Brian and Pete loaded a round in the chamber of their rifles and moved to either side of him. Several of Mac’s men noticed the movement and pulled their weapons, their aim coming to rest on the three of them walking toward the group with their prisoner. Mac lowered what he was looking at and stepped towards them slightly.  
  
“Halpert. Interesting seeing you here.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not necessary to hold Carl there, he’s not going to run away. The least you could do is let the man zip up his fly.”  
  
“He’s fine where he’s at. I wouldn’t want you getting any crazy ideas.” Jim pressed the pistol firmly into the man’s head.  
  
“It seems we had the same idea, Halpert,” he handed the piece of paper he was holding to the man next to him. “This mine could be quite lucrative if utilized properly. Too bad for you, I got here first.”  
  
“What are you looking for?” Jim asked, his voice slightly strained as the man continued to struggle against him.  
  
“Well, the same thing you are I suspect. Salt, maybe even coal.”  
  
Jim cursed internally. He had hoped Mac had been looking for something more superficial like silver or copper to sell, not the exact thing he was searching for. “Did you find anything?”  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Do you think I’m actually going to tell you what I found? No way in hell.” He shook his head, putting his hands on his hips defiantly. “What would you be willing to trade for what we have in here?”  
  
“I’m not trading anything until I know what you have.”  
  
Mac shook his head and crossed his arms with a laugh. “I’m just dying to know what is so damn precious at that farm that you have built a fucking fortress around it.”  
  
“Just our families.”  
  
“Nah, it can’t be that. No amount of tail is worth that, I don’t care how hot they are.”  
  
A muttered curse came from Brian’s direction behind him.  
  
Jim struggled again with the man, jerking him back slightly. “Well, it seems we are at an impasse. You won’t tell me what you have and I won’t tell you what we have to trade.”  
  
There was a cold shift in Mac’s posture. “Here’s the thing, Halpert. There is _nothing_ that stands in the way of what I want.”  
  
Before Jim could process the sound of the gunshot, the man in his grip went limp, his dead weight almost pulling him down to the ground with it. He backed away, leaving the dying man on the ground, when hot searing pain split his middle, causing him to stumble. They continued to race back to the truck amidst the sounds of bullets flying past them, bouncing off the buildings around them. Pete fell in front of him and he reached down to put an arm under him to drag him up and into the bed of the truck, shoving the back gate closed behind him. Brian had jumped behind the wheel and Jim climbed in the passenger side feeling lightheaded. Brian slammed the old truck into gear and peeled back onto the road leading away from the mine.  
  
Jim looked down at his side finally, the source of the blinding pain that had seized him. The deep crimson bloomed outward on his shirt rapidly. He looked up in cold realization, the adrenaline leaving his body as resignation took its place. He looked over as Brian looked down at where his hand was pressed pointlessly against the flow. His eyes drifted back up to meet his.  
  
“Shit, Jim.”  
  
“Pete is hurt.” Jim’s words felt labored. He struggled to take a breath, feeling both heavy and lightweight in equal measure.  
  
Brian drove fast and silent, abject dread in every heartbeat. “Pam is going to kill me.”  
  


“No, she’ll kill me first and you’ll have time to run.” Jim choked on the words as they fell as a whisper. He focused on the mist his breath was creating on the bokeh of the window his head leaned against when, from the edges, everything faded to darkness. 


	11. On the Nature of Daylight

Pam remembered hospitals. The smell, the sounds. Besides being in one for the birth of her children, she once had to be there for several days when her grandmother had died. She hadn’t really understood then, being only eight, what was happening and why but she understood her father weeping. She understood the sound of the machines, the steady beep of the monitor, and what it meant when that beep stopped.  
  
She felt empty. A hollow, empty cavern of a person. Time had ceased moving forward as she sat listening to the ticking clock in their room. There were no beeps now, just the sound of that damn clock. And his breathing. She hung on every breath as if her lungs depended on his inhale and exhale to keep them filled. The small wooden chair next to their bed creaked if she moved so she sat still and listened. She listened until her legs became numb and she would stand, moving from one side of the bed to the other. Listening. She became irrationally irritated when people tried to talk to her and distracted her from her vigil. Everyone worried. She heard the whispers. They worried about Jim and the baby. Cece and Phil would come and sit next to her and she would hold them. Sometimes Cece’s soft tears would fall wet on her leg.  
  
“Pam?” Mike’s tender voice broke through her listening. “I’m going to check his bandage, okay?”  
  
“When is he going to wake up?” Her lips felt dry as she spoke, her voice a monotone she didn’t recognize.  
  
“You ask me that every time I come in here, Pam. The answer is the same, I don’t know. Have you eaten? You have to eat something, you’re pregnant. Even if you won’t do it for you, you have to do it for your baby, Pam. For his baby.”  
  
Her eyes shot up at him, shocked and venomous. “How dare you. How dare you assume I don’t care.” She looked back at Jim, her shoulders resuming their determined posture. “I’m fine.”  
  
He shook his head sadly as he peeled back the cotton gauze of the bandage. “It looks really good. There doesn’t seem to be an infection at all and he’s not running a fever. These are all good signs.”  
  
She blinked slowly then wordlessly nodded, her eyes never leaving Jim’s pale face. He turned and left, she heard the soft click of the door as it closed. A deep exhale shook her body, her facade of calm patience was cracking, she felt the pieces falling away.  
  
“Why are you doing this to me?” She shook her head involuntarily, the burn of her unshed tears claiming the back of her throat. She wasn’t sure if the question was directed at God or Jim or both. “I know you can hear me. Just wake up, damn it. Wake up and make me laugh or wake up and tell me I’m being ridiculous and make me eat something.” Tears came unbidden and she only noticed the wet pooling on her hands folded in her lap. “I swear Jim, you can’t leave me here. You can’t leave me here alone. Your children need you. I need you. I can’t do this without you. Don’t…abandon me.” She could barely breathe now, panic and fear taking over, the fragile quicksand she stood on giving way under her feet. She climbed into bed next to him, curling herself around his body, feeling bereft of the instinctual way his arms closed around her when she held him. Instead, he was still now, no tremble or shift of the muscles under his skin. She laid her head on his heart feeling its comforting, steady strum under her ear. “You promised me. You promised me that you would never leave me. Don’t you dare break your promise to me. Tell me it’s going to be okay. Wake up and tell me it’s going to be okay…”  
  
At some point she had fallen asleep for when she opened her eyes again, hours had passed and she could see the brilliant colors of the sunset out the window. The purples and oranges painting the room with a soft pink haze. She shifted against his chest, her cheek slightly sticking to his shirt from her dried tears.  
  
“Even when I’m unconscious, you still use me as a pillow, Beesly.”  
  
Her sharp intake of breath seemed loud in the quiet room. She looked up at his small smile and she laughed a sob, climbing up and burying her face in his neck. His arm came up gingerly around her and she sobbed again, pulling back to put her hands on his face. A tear dripped off her chin onto his cheek and she wiped it away.  
  
He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. “Hey.”  
  
She bit back a laugh. “Hi.”


	12. With Shortness of Breath, You Explained the Infinite

The chill in the air seemed permanent now, the sun never quite burning it away. Winter was most certainly upon them. They had become comfortable in their successes, conquering nature, conquering the evils of man; now those confidences had been shattered. With two of their strongest down with serious injuries, the fear that had left them had crept back in; its insidious tendrils wrapping themselves around the hearts and minds of everyone at the Farm. There were more weapons visible. Mothers held their children closer. Pam felt the dull ache of the bruise her soul had sustained in recent days and it sometimes throbbed with a pulse. Being whole but empty inside wasn’t a sensation that healed easily. It left a scar.  
  
She moved quietly around their room while he slept, pausing intermittently to stop and stare at him; seeing the rise and fall of his chest to assure herself. She saw him stirring and went to retrieve the warm water she had heating on the stove, setting it down on the dresser near the bed; steaming wisps climbing into the air above it.  
  
His eyes opened, breaking through the haze of sleep, and when they found hers, a smile formed and echoed itself on her face.  
  
“Good morning,” his rough, raspy voice greeted her.  
  
She reached down and brushed aside the messy hair on his forehead and he took her hand, holding her palm to his lips placing an inhaling kiss there. “Afternoon, actually. I knew you needed to rest so I let you sleep. I have something for you to eat but I thought you might want to clean up first.” She held the rag up next to the steaming basin for emphasis.  
  
He sat up with a groan, grimacing as he swung over to sit on the edge of the bed, her mumbled ‘careful’ reaching his ears.  
  
“I hate this. I hate not being able to do what I want.”  
  
“Are you saying you’re a bad patient?” She smiled and pulled his shirt up and over his head, reaching over to the basin to wring out the rag. His hands came up to brace her hips, the beckoning pull of her body in front of his.  
  
“You know, half a dozen of my fantasies start out this way.”  
  
“Oh God…” she shook her head mirthfully, “Now I know you’re feeling better.”  
  
“What?” He leaned forward slightly, his mouth finding the soft cotton over her firm belly and sighing against it.  
  
She pushed his shoulder gently as her warm, wet hand and the rag traced a path across his broad shoulders. “Dr. Mike hasn’t given you the all-clear to resume ‘activities’,” her voice trembled at the last word as his hand pushed up her shirt marginally, seeking out her skin.  
  
“Well, I’m certainly not waiting for his approval.” His words vibrated against her, the low tenor his voice took on when his mind was decidedly elsewhere.  
  
She turned and sat on the bed next to him so she could begin on his back, effectively putting her out of his reach and he huffed with a slump of his shoulders.  
  
“You should. He saved your life.”  
  
He sighed deeply this time, drawing her words into his mind. “How’s Pete?”  
  
Her hands paused briefly before she spoke, “He’s still not awake. Mike said he lost a lot of blood. I’ve been trying to help Erin with the baby but she’s pretty inconsolable and Joshua has been picking up on that.”  
  
“Jesus…”  
  
She could see the tenseness in the muscles of his back as she worked, the burden of guilt he unfairly placed on himself written on his body. She leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his skin, following it with a slow pass of the rag, willing the warm water to wash away his scars as much as hers.  
  
  
______________

“Erin?”  
  
Pam pushed to door open slowly, not wanting to wake anyone who might be asleep. Erin lifted her head from her arms where they rested on the edge of the bed, her startled expression looking between Pete’s face and Pam.  
  
Pam lifted her hand and whispered, “Sorry. I just wanted to see if you need anything.”  
  
Erin’s body shook with a deep sigh and she returned her sunken, tired eyes and the purple-black skin outlining them, back in the direction of Pete wordlessly. Pam moved over to the bassinet, placing a gentle hand on the small, soft stomach of Joshua, and his tiny mouth responded with a soothing sucking motion.  
  
“I told him to go.” Erin’s broken voice pierced the silence of the room. Pam crossed the room to sit next to her, the floorboards creaking slightly under her weight.  
  
“He was hovering. Joshua wasn’t latching and I lost my temper and snapped at him. I told him to go.” Her voice quivered like she wanted to cry but the tears didn’t fall, long since dried up.  
  
“It’s not your fault, Erin,” Pam replied softy.  
  
“We wasted so much time,” her hands twisted in her lap and she reached for him as if to distract herself, “He was going to propose to me years ago, he told me. Then everything happened…”  
  
She turned to Pam and met her sorrowful eyes with her own.  
  
“That Day, I thought we were so lucky, you know? We were working late, at the end of the month stuff. Angela and Pete were waiting for Meredith, Dwight, and I to finish. Everyone else was gone. We didn’t even notice the computers and phones shut off. The power plant exploded and shattered some of the windows. Dwight didn’t say much he just handed his address to Pete and Meredith and left.”  
  
Pam sat quietly and listened knowing Erin needed to speak, watching her as she pulled his hand to meet her face and stroked it.  
  
“I thought we were lucky coming here.”  
  
Pam startled slightly at her words, “Oh Erin, you are so very lucky you have been here since the beginning. Has Pete never told you what it’s like out there on his runs?”  
  
Erin shook her head. “I’ve asked and he just said it’s bad but he never tells me anything.”  
  
“Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it. Remember when we showed up that day? How desperate we were?” Her mind recalled what they must have looked like on Dwight’s doorstep, a breath away from dying, weary and filthy from the endless miles of silent torture. She could almost hear Dwight’s monotone, ‘What took you so long?’ before she had collapsed on the wood floor of the front porch. She felt somewhat resentful that Erin hadn’t experienced any of the suffering they had, not that she wished that on anyone, but rather the perspective it brought to every day that they made it now. To be reminded of the dangerous world beyond those gates where there was no law except to survive; where the weak either died or became property.  
  
“Oh my God.” Erin’s mutter pulled Pam back from the morose train of her thoughts. She followed her eyes and saw Pete’s hand grip Erin’s and her shaky, “Oh my God.”  
  
Pam stood quietly and made her way to the door, “I’ll go get Dr. Mike.” She smiled as she pulled the door closed to Erin’s weeping cries of happiness.  
  
______________

  
Pam was in the garden next to the main house in the midday sun, the wind had begun to howl and she pulled her fur hood overhead while she continued working. This garden was primarily hers and Erin’s, a fenced-in square that easily provided enough vegetables for those in the main house. There were now several garden spaces people had erected around the farm over the previous months but this was theirs. The last of the fall squash had already been taken and she was picking through the vines for any that remained when Brian stopped at the gate of the garden.  
  
“Hey, Pam.” Pulling off his work gloves and stacking them in his hand.  
  
“Oh hey, Brian. Jim’s awake if you want to go see him. I tried to get him to rest but I’m sure he will be out here harassing you soon enough.” She picked up the basket and Brian stepped over and took it from her, moving it to the end of the row.  
  
“Should you be doing this? I mean…you are…”  
  
She stopped and looked at him, “Has Jim been talking to you?”  
  
He looked confused, “No, about what?”  
  
She chuckled at his reaction, “If Jim had his way, I wouldn’t do anything for nine months.”  
  
“Oh. Yeah, I don’t blame him. I’d be a nervous wreck.”  
  
Pam smiled, “Well, that’s why you two are such good friends. You think the same about everything.”  
  
“I guess we do. Hey listen, I’m sorry about Jim getting hurt. I know I haven’t had a chance to tell you…with everything.”  
  
She stopped and looked at him, sincerity written across his features, “Brian, I don’t blame you for anything. I’m just teasing you.”  
  
“I know. I just feel guilty I guess.” He shuffled slightly, reaching behind and stuffing his gloves in his back pocket.  
  
“Jim said they just opened fire on you guys, that you didn’t have a chance. I know you did everything you could and I’m just glad they are both recovering.” The wind slammed the gate shut with a loud bang behind them.  
  
“It smells like snow,” he voiced absently as he looked back at the floundering gate, “My dad used to say that. I know he was full of shit but on days like this I’m beginning to think he was right.”  
  
Pam gave him a bemused look.  
  
“Hey, I was...uh wondering...if I could ask you something?”  
  
She tossed the last squash in the basket. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
He looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, “I’ve been talking to Isabel. She’s uh, really…nice.” His eyes were soft as he searched for words.  
  
“Yes, she is.” She knew that look and she had seen it before, for years actually, even though she had been in denial then. She shook her head and smiled.  
  
“Do you think, I mean, how should I be…around her? I don’t want to scare her.”  
  
“Well, she probably felt comfortable the other night because of all the people around. I would make sure you spend time with her with others around, at least for a little while. Ask her what she’s comfortable with. Always ask.”  
  
“I just don’t want to insult her or something.” Brian shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down, “I mean, I don’t care about any of that, of course, I mean I care but it doesn’t matter…God, I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. Forget it.” She had never seen him so flustered, she could swear he was blushing. Brian was not one to be at a loss for words in all the years she’d known him.  
  
“She hasn’t told me much but she was really hurt and treated badly. It’s going to take time for her to heal and trust. I would just be patient, that’s probably the best thing.”  
  
He looked up, seriousness painting his features now, “I can do that.”  
  
Pam smiled, “Ok well, patient and slow and always ask would be my advice.”  
  
“Thanks, Pam, really. I better get back to work.” He gestured towards the barn.  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Oh boy, she thought to herself, it is _so_ over for that man.  
  
  
  
______________  
  
  
  
Jim had been tinkering in the garage when he came back up to the house for some water and a break, his energy leaving him quickly. He wasn’t allowed to do much, his wife and Dr. Brooks admonished any attempts at actual work so he mostly just walked around and checked in with everyone. It was infinitely better than laying in bed, so he welcomed it. He spotted her opening the door to the root cellar and decided his drink could wait. He walked up wordlessly and watched from the doorway as she placed the potatoes from the baskets into the bowl she was using. Her hair, one of his most favorite things, hung in loose, smooth curls reaching mid-back and she flung some errant locks back over her shoulder as they fell in her way. His entire world encased in brown cargo pants and a white long sleeve shirt.  
  
“I know you’re back there Jim,” she spoke without turning around.  
  
“How do you do that?” He moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her belly and kissing the side of her hair, “Aren’t you cold? Where’s your coat?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms vigorously.  
  
She ignored his question but smiled, “I hope you haven’t been doing anything strenuous.”  
  
“I haven’t. In fact, I was coming up for a break when I spotted this beautiful girl that I just had to talk to.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Did you get anywhere with her?” 

“I’d say so.” He ran his hands over her swollen stomach.  
  
“Funny," she nudged him with her elbow. "Brian asked me earlier about Isabel. That man is a goner,” turning with her bowl to face him.

“Oh really? He has been awfully interested in her.” He absently reached for a carrot out of a nearby basket and studied it.  
  
“I think it’s sweet. I told him to take it slow and ask before everything. She’s going to need a lot of healing.”  
  
“He deserves someone.” He followed her out, shutting the old wooden door behind them.  
  
“Yes, he does.” She agreed.  
  
They made their way back toward the house when Jim stopped on the porch.  
  
“Do you hear that?”  
  
“It sounds like a motorcycle,” Pam commented, “Where do you think it’s coming from?”  
  
They both watched as Jeff tore into the yard on his horse, “Jim! This is for you. Some guy left it at the gate.”  
  
Jim stepped down the stairs and walked over to the excited gelding and took the note, reading it quickly, then handing it to Pam.  
  
Brian ran up to Jim, hearing all the commotion, “What’s going on?” Pam wordlessly handed him the note.  
  
Brian spoke low, “This could be a trap.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jim squinted out over the horizon and looked back to Brian.  
  
“What does it say?” Jeff finally asked, the suspense killing him.  
  
Pam was the first to answer, “Mac wants to meet with Jim. Alone.”  
  
  
  
  
Despite Mike’s medical advice against it, Jim prepared for the meeting, gathering a few loaded weapons from storage and returning back to the porch, where the men had gathered once word had spread about the message.  
  
“I’m taking Brian with me but I need everyone else here and ready. If this is some kind of ploy to get the farm unguarded then we need to be ready for that. Bring everyone in from the fields or outer areas until we are back.”  
  
He nodded to Brian and they made their way to the truck. Pam walked over to meet him and waited in the space of the open door until he laid his rifle on the bench.  
  
They closed their eyes and he dropped his forehead to hers, nuzzling their noses together. “Come back to me James Halpert,” she whispered.  
  
He took a deep, shaky breath. Sometimes it felt like physical pain to leave her when every molecule of his body wanted to stay. He put his hands on her face, “Please stay in the house while I’m gone. I can’t…” he couldn’t finish, his eyes pleading with her. He wanted to tell her that he can’t concentrate if he’s worried about her or the kids, that he needs to know they’re safe so he can focus on the threat but the words caught in his throat and he hoped she just knew like she always did.  
  
He gave her a quick kiss and he carefully climbed in the seat where Brian was waiting. She watched the fading truck in the distance with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, quickly wiping the tear from her cheek before anyone noticed.  
  
They pulled up on the outskirts of the buildings and killed the engine, parking it under the awning of an old garage, and walked the rest of the way. They didn’t come in the front door where they noticed two of his men standing but instead came in the service entrance of the mayor’s building. Brian waited there while Jim made his way through the offices in the back until opened the servant’s entrance to the living room where Mac was waiting for him.  
  
Mac turned around slightly startled, expecting him through the other door, “Mr. Halpert. Coming in the back. Smart.”  
  
Jim just glanced around the room, looking for any signs of a trap. Mac was dressed much the same as he always was, dirty jeans and worn flannel shirt, his blond hair pulled back. Jim figured that they never actually washed the clothes they wore but just found new ones. He noticed Mac’s gun laying on the table.  
  
Mac picked up where he was looking. “I thought any conversation might go better if we weren’t armed this time.”  
  
Slowly Jim laid his gun on the other side of the table keeping his eyes on him.  
  
“Excellent. Let’s have a seat. There are plenty to chose from,” he commented with the same fake, cordial tone Jim had heard before in the pharmacy. Mac chose an old red high backed chair near the defunct fireplace and he motioned for Jim to join him, and he chose the chair opposite.  
  
Mac studied him for a long moment, “A cop.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Jim replied.  
  
“I bet you were a cop…Before.”  
  
“No, I wasn’t.” Jim continued to glance around the room suspiciously.  
  
Mac waited for him to continue but when he didn’t he added, “No? Man, I thought I was right on the money. I was a foreman in construction. Worked on those huge ass buildings in Jersey. Pay was decent.”  
  
Jim watched him cautiously, knowing this was an attempt to gather information and break a facade, create a false sense of camaraderie. He must need something, Jim thought to himself.  
  
“So…don't leave me in suspense.”  
  
“Paper Salesman.”  
  
“No shit! I would have never guessed that the way these people around here think you’re some sort of Bruce Wayne, or is it John McClane?”  
  
Jim shifted in his chair and leaned back slightly, his wounded side ached with overuse.  
  
“It’s interesting how this whole end-of-the-world thing has made all that shit irrelevant. Here we are a construction worker and a salesman helping people survive.” Mac waved his arm gesturing around the room.  
  
“Do you help people?” Jim brought his hand to his beard, his tone mocking, “Or just rape and kill them?”  
  
Mac gave him a questioning look.  
  
“I’ve heard the stories. Things you have done to people you’ve come across.”  
  
“What does it matter? I help some but not just anyone. The rest is just the spoils of war. It’s all about perspective. Guys like us have been handed an ace in this shithole, Halpert. We can have it all now. You and I are the same, even if you won’t admit it.”  
  
Jim laughed bitterly, “You and I are not even remotely the same.”  
  
“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you. We both have possessions we kill for, or kill to acquire. What’s the difference?”  
  
“I haven’t killed someone unless they’ve come after me first. There’s a huge difference.”  
  
“You killed my brother for no reason. Why is that different than killing a guy in between me and my next ten meals? Or killing and taking what I want?”  
  
Jim looked at him slightly confused, “When did I kill your brother?”  
  
“He didn’t recover from that little ass whooping you put on him that night in the barn and since you keep the only doctor around here, he didn’t have a chance.”  
  
It instantly came to him who he was talking about, the man who hit Pam, who was standing silently behind them that night, must have been his brother.  
  
Jim tilted his head and shrugged dismissively, “He hurt my wife, that’s more than enough reason.” He didn’t feel remorseful at all after what that bastard had done to Pam and he wanted Mac to know that.  
  
Mac’s eyes narrowed, “And no one fucking does that, I guess?”  
  
“No. No, they don’t.” Jim said firmly, holding his gaze in warning.  
  
Mac’s cool, calm demeanor was changing now, “You seem to have everything all figured out. What is it that you want?”  
  
“You called this meeting, not me.”  
  
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to give us a third of your food for the winter. In return, we will give you two barrels of salt.”  
  
“Absolutely not. That food is for my family. You should leave before the snow hits if you are out of food. Try Tent City maybe?” He saw the recognition flash in his eyes before he caught himself.  
  
“You can ration. As I understand it, you have plenty. Besides, I know you need the salt and we just happen to be in possession of the only source of it between here and the Atlantic.”  
  
Jim cursed their luck. Mac had exactly what he had wanted. A bargaining chip. He wasn’t confident enough to attack yet but he sure as hell had something they needed and somehow he knew it.  
  
Mac sat back in the chair and studied Jim for a moment, “I know you are going to give me that food. Do you know why?”  
  
Jim shook his head, his patience wearing thin.  
  
“You’re a family man, Jim.”  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“Oh you are, and for reasons I will never understand. Sweet little wife, two kids, white picket fence…” he said with disgust, “A guy like you could have whatever you want, but instead....” he gestured at Jim like the reason was self-explanatory.  
  
“You are a piece of work,” Jim shook his head in revulsion.  
  
“Am I wrong, Mr. Paper Salesman? How is Pam these days with the baby coming? Or young Cecelia? How old is she now?”  
  
Jim’s heart stopped, “How the hell do you know their names?”  
  
Mac smiled at his reaction. “I told you, Jim, I know everything about you. You make the trade if you want to do what’s best for them because, I swear to you,” he leaned forward, “if you don’t, I will kill every last one of your men and take that damn farm and everyone who is left….and enjoy it, believe me.”  
  
Jim stared hard at him, carefully choosing his next words, “You will _never_ have _anything_ on that farm. I promise you that.” His voice was cold and deadly.  
  
Mac wasn’t outwardly fazed, “We’ll see.” He stood and moved towards his weapon shoving it back into the holster on his hip, “I’ll give you a week to talk it over with your people. I think you’ll see that those farmers don’t want to fight and it will be an awfully long winter without that salt.” He walked out the front door, leaving it open behind him.  
  
______________

  
  
Jim swung open the back door to find an anxious Brian waiting for him. He jerked his chin in the direction of the truck and he followed silently.  
  
He didn’t say anything until he turned the engine over and then he looked over at him, “He wants a third of our food,” he threw the truck into gear harshly and pulled out from under the awning, “and I think we have a damn spy.”  
  
“Well, he can go fuck himself about the food and why do you think we have a spy?” Brian asked.  
  
Jim ran his hand down his face, “He knows we need salt, which isn’t a huge mystery, but he knew Pam and Cece’s name. I have made a point to never use their names.”  
  
“Maybe he heard someone talk to them?” Brian offered.  
  
“He called her Cecelia. We never use her full name and you wouldn’t know that unless you knew us. I can’t believe someone would do that.” Jim shook his head frustratedly. Nothing stung more than betrayal and that’s exactly what this felt like. It wasn’t even information like how many guns they had or when they ran patrols, it was his daughter’s name. It was personal.  
  
“It’s personal.”  
  
Brian turned to him, unsure he heard him correctly, “What?”  
  
“It’s personal,” Jim repeated, “I killed his brother. The man that hit Pam that night was his brother. I guess he didn’t survive...what I did to him.”  
  
“Damn, Jim.” Brian murmured, then shrugged appreciatively.  
  
“Don’t tell any of this to anyone you don’t trust completely. I have no idea who the leak could be but we need to figure it out.”  
  
Giant snowflakes began to fall from the overcast sky, making soft splats on the windshield. Time had run out and the promise of another long winter stretched out in front of them.  
  
“I knew it smelled like snow.”


	13. Holding On and Letting Go

“So you need me to just ‘get rid of him’ for you, huh?”  
  
Toby sat across from Mac, the man he had heard so much about since his arrival, in the old formal library of the once nice late-nineteenth-century farmhouse. The office reflected a life lived previously and forgotten. Dust covered almost every surface, long neglected. Its current occupants had little regard for the lifetime collected here. Shattered glass memories crushed with flippant consideration to what value they once held.  
  
“Yeah, uh just him. Well, maybe the guy he’s always with. Brian is his name. He’s like his right-hand man.” Toby shifted nervously in the larger man’s presence and he tried to conjure up the anger and hatred that had brought him to his doorstep, for the sake of his confidence.  
  
“Uh-huh. How about you start from the beginning…Toby, is it? I always like a good story.” Mac leaned forward, his flannel covered elbows pushing aside expired magazines and unopened bills that cluttered the desk.  
  
“There is no story, I just need him gone and I figured you would want him gone too.” His timid voice barely loud enough to hear.  
  
“There’s always a story. If you want me to help you I need you to tell me everything you know; what he has and what is there.”  
  
Toby swallowed hard, there was no turning back and he pushed forward with his plan. “Okay well… he has a wife, Pam, she is amazing… she’s pregnant,” he paused noticeably and Mac’s eyebrows raised, “but they already have two kids. Cecelia is about ten or so and the boy, Phillip, is a couple of years younger. He has a sister there too. She’s a nurse, I think.”  
  
He noticed a weathered copy of _Robison Caruso_ on the bookshelf behind him; a favorite of his, he noted absently, next to _A Room With A View._ One of the books he read in the Finer Things Club with _her_ and her beautiful mind and soft cardigans.  
  
Mac sat back in his chair rubbing his beard pensively, the loud groan of ancient springs and screws of the wooden swivel chair protesting use filled the tense quiet of the room.  
  
“So they’ve been together a long time?”  
  
“Yeah, since Before.” Toby finished softly, hoping that was all he wanted on the subject.  
  
“I figured she wasn’t some whore he knocked up considering…” Mac stopped short, catching himself, “Tell me about the weapons.”  
  
“They have a lot. They have them in a room below the house but I’ve never been in there. Jim and his buddies are the only ones with keys so I’ve never seen it.”  
  
Mac gave a frustrated grunt and sat up. “What else? How many people?”  
  
“There’s more now. They took in a bunch when I got there. Lots of women and kids and a few families live in these little cabins they’ve built. Some men, maybe a dozen or so…and the doctor. He lives in the big house too.” Toby needlessly shifted the bag at his feet, hoping Mac would leave the house alone if there was a doctor there in the same place as Sasha.  
  
“The big house?”  
  
“The original house is where the woman who owns the place lives. Her husband is dead. Jim, Brian, Pete, the wives, and all the kids sleep there.”  
  
Mac began rubbing his dirty beard in thought, “So it’s not his place. Interesting. Food and supplies?”  
  
“They’ve got plenty. They farm that place all year. One of the older guys is a farmer and knows what he’s doing.”  
  
“Boy, he’s got quite the fancy set up over there.” He nodded to Johnny, who leaned against the door frame listening. “What did he want at the mine? He was there looking for something, I know it.”  
  
“Salt, maybe? I heard they are running low.” Toby pulled an old walkie from his bag and slid it across the table. “They use these. It might help you figure out where Jim is.” He looked back and forth between Johnny and Mac nervously, “So you will help me? Just him and leave everyone else alone?”  
  
Mac didn’t respond, instead, he stood, walking behind Toby to the window. “You know, people think they are hard to figure out but they’re not. They usually give themselves away without even realizing it. You, for example, you say you just want Halpert dead. You were taken in over there and had it really good but now you come here wanting him dead. That doesn’t add up but the real reason is as clear as day. You want him out of the way because you want his wife. You’re too pussy to kill him yourself and just take her so you come to someone like me.”  
  
Toby began to interject but Mac continued, his tone changing from falsely pleasant to agitated.  
  
“Here’s the thing, I’m not just here to do your dirty work. If I’m going to risk my neck and take that place, I’m sure as hell going to enjoy the rewards and not just hand them over to you.”  
  
“That wasn’t the deal. If I gave you all this information you would kill him for me.” Toby’s voice was pinched with growing fear.  
  
Mac turned to face him, “I never agreed to anything. I just figured if I let you talk you would reveal everything to me like a virgin on prom night, and you did just that. Now if you were smart, you would walk away and go find you some ass somewhere else.”  
  
Toby paled, his features reflecting disquiet but he didn’t gather his things and walk out, instead hesitating.  
  
Mac moved closer to him, “See, you are like a damn book. You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about going back over there and warning her, would you?”  
  
Toby shook his head slowly with a hard swallow in place of an answer.  
  
“Because that is something I just can’t have.” As he spoke the last word, the effort of him plunging his knife in Toby’s stomach, caused his voice to strain. He watched apathetically as Toby sank slowly and silently to the floor, his life leaving his body and pooling at his feet. With no emotion, he pulled a rag from his back pocket wiping his hand and knife clean before tossing it on the motionless body below him.  
  
“Take him back and dump him with the others. Get Dex in here, I have a meeting to arrange and I need him to deliver a message.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Pam stirred the cloudy liquid slowly as she placed another egg in the mirky lime water, gently finding the bottom of the bucket and resting it there. There was a howling wind rattling the wooden window frames, the cadence of their rhythm, gaining then receding, created a restless feeling in the air. Isabel worked quietly beside her, her companionship becoming a comfort Pam had relied on. There was never a pressure to fill the silence with Isabel, and her soft, quiet countenance spoke of an old soul that had seen far too much; a spirit that had been bent, surely, but not broken.  
  
Pam glanced at the dead goose laying unceremoniously near the door, a prize brought back by two of the newer men, demonstrating their value as hunters.  
  
“I hate plucking those things but dinner will be good tonight.”  
  
“I’ll do it, I don’t mind. I consider it their comeuppance for terrorizing my sister and me when we were little. They would land in the field in front of my house when they flew south every year. They are mean, loud little jerks.”  
  
Pam gave an amused laugh. “It’s all yours then. Far be it from me to get in the way of justice.” Pam looked up at the jars on the shelf in front of her in thought, “Geese always remind me of a fact I learned about them when I was younger. There’s a certain species that, I can’t remember the name now, but they mated for life. The humane thing to do if you killed one was to wait for the mate to come back and kill that one too or they would mourn themselves to death. It broke my heart and I went home and cried about it all afternoon.”  
  
Isabel stopped and looked at her with a slack-jawed expression, “I take it back, I don’t want to pluck the goose now. Great Pam, now I will never look at the little bastards the same way again.”  
  
“Well if it’s any consolation, that,” she pointed at the feathered lump at the door, “is not the same species. Just visualize it as the one who chased you.”  
  
Isabel huffed out a small chuckle, “This one is almost full. I’ll take it to the root cellar and come back for that one. Don’t try and lift it, wait till I get back,” she finished sternly.  
  
“Oh, not you too. I can carry things, you know.”  
  
“It doesn’t make you weaker to accept help, Pam. Just see it for what it is, that people care.” Isabel slowed her stirring, watching the current she created spin around the surface, disturbed by the presence of the wooden spoon in its path.  
  
“I know, I’ll just be glad when this baby finally gets here and I don’t feel like the size of a house.” They echoed each other with a mirthful laugh.  
  
“Come on, it will be worth it. I always wanted that, a full house. I only had one sister before my father left my mother but I loved big families.” She set another egg carefully in the bucket, seeing it disappear in the cloudy water. “I don’t see that happening now,” her voice laced in disappointment.  
  
Pam glanced knowingly at her, “You never know.” She schooled her expression, trying her best not to meddle.  
  
“I was engaged to a man before Jim. Every time I thought about having kids with him it just didn’t feel right. I knew it was something I should have wanted but I just… didn’t.” She put the lid on the bucket and smoothed her hand around the edge to seal it. “But with Jim it was different. I couldn’t wait to have children with him. You’ll know when it’s right, and with the right person.”  
  
“Maybe,” she replied thoughtfully. “I need to find Brian. He was going to fix the chair in my room, the leg is cracked.”  
  
Pam grinned openly at her train of thought. “Just take it down to the garage. One of the guys down there can fix it.”  
  
“No, Brian said he would do it.”  
  
“MmmHmm,” Pam replied lightly with a smirk.  
  
“What?” Pam thought she tried to look confused but was failing terribly, hiding her smile as she walked out of the room. “I’ll be back in a minute for the other bucket.”  
  
She heard his familiar footfalls coming down the hall and turned, “Hey babe, Henry was looking for you. Something about missing bags of cornmeal.” She felt him move wordlessly behind her and rest against the counter, so she continued. “You missed quite the commotion earlier. One of the Johnson children shot at a rabbit in the field, hitting it apparently. The two dogs that live at the Bradly’s cabin took off after it. When the Johnson kid tried to get it back from the dogs, he got bit and screamed bloody murder. Mrs. Johnson heard her son screaming but was working in the pigpen with Meredith and fell in the muck trying to get out in a hurry. She was covered in pig slime, poor thing. Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Bradly started arguing about the dog but apparently, the bite didn’t break the skin, it was just rabbit blood.” She finally finished her rundown of the afternoon’s events without even turning around, assuming he was still listening.  
  
“Hey, I need to tell you something. Something I didn’t tell the others in the yard.”  
  
His demeanor made her immediately lay the spoon down and dry her hands as she leaned against the counter to face him.  
  
“Someone has been talking to Mac. He knew your name and Cece’s. I’ve never used your names. Someone from here, I guess, told him.”  
  
“Toby.” Scarcely aware she had spoken, like saying it aloud would shatter her trust in what was.  
  
Jim nodded and braced his hands on either side of the sink, his eyes looking at nothing but his thoughts out the window. Her verbal confirmation of what he feared written on the lines of his face.  
  
Pam rounded her shoulders in resignation, moving to place her hand on his that gripped the edge of the farmhouse sink, “Oh God Jim, he knows everything about us. Do you think he’s capable of something like that?”  
  
“I don’t know. If you asked me that six years ago I would have said no way, but this Toby is not the same guy. He definitely seemed mad enough when he left here.”  
  
“Mac will kill him, he has to know that.”  
  
Jim stood quietly before ducking his head and glancing in her direction, “Love will make a man do stupid things.”  
  
Pam met him with an indignant glare, “That is not love. Some…delusional infatuation maybe, but not love.” Anger and frustration threatened to spill over the edges. She had trusted him. They had taken him in and shared everything with him like family and he had betrayed that trust with deafening finality with his intrusion of her most private moments and now this.  
  
“He doesn’t see it that way,” he replied softly, knowingly. ”He probably feels justified. Mac called Cece, Cecelia. I’m sure he’s told him more than just names.”  
  
“His own daughter lives here!” She shook her head frustratedly, cold realization coming to her. “Do you think he will come after the kids?”  
  
He pulled her to him, resting his chin on her head and fitting her body to his. She ran her hands across his back and felt him shiver slightly in response, the sensation traveling up her arms until it finally rested at the back of her neck, raising the hairs there.  
  
“I won’t let that happen. Hopefully, he just comes after me. Something about this whole thing just bothers me more. I guess because I liked Toby. He was a good guy. I used to watch Sasha for him when she was little. To have him betray us the way he has in the cellar and now this…really hurts.” He spoke quietly into her hair, feeling his words vibrate through her and she exhaled against his chest.  
  
Her whispered, “I know,” barely audible beyond the thick flannel of his shirt.  
  
He held her quietly for several moments before pulling back with a bewildered facial expression.  
  
“Wait. What happened to Mrs. Johnson?”  
  
  
  
_____________  
  
  
Snowflakes were falling steadily now but still melting once they came to rest on the ground, a final warning. The last of the leaves giving into their fate and falling away in the brisk breeze leaving the skeleton shapes of the trees for the remainder of winter.  
  
They stood anxiously in one of the remaining building projects that were still unfinished, only framed with a roof, already serving its purpose of a meeting house. The entire population of the Farm stood around in a loose circle on its uneven flooring, Jim, Pam, Brian, and Angela forming its center.  
  
“We have to decide if we are going through with this trade,” Jim spoke up and everyone quieted at the sound of his voice. “He wants a third, but I don’t really think he knows exactly how much we have so as long as we give him enough to keep him and his men fed until the snow melts, he will be satisfied. This will affect everyone and we don’t know how long winter will last this year so don’t make the decision lightly. We need the salt. We have only enough to last maybe a month and there was none we could find in Tent City either. He knows we need it.”  
  
“What if he expects us to feed him and his lazy scumbags all year round?” Angela’s annoyed voice broke in.  
  
He looked around the makeshift room at the concerned faces staring back at him and the felt the weight of their expectations. Pam slipped her small hand into his, unnoticed by anyone else; her silent gesture giving him what he needed. “That’s a possibility. He knows we need the salt and that’s his play. We can think about gaining control of the mine in the Spring but he won’t let it go without a fight. He still might attack here eventually but I don’t think he will do it yet.”  
  
He looked at Brian and then Isabel, who stood slightly behind him now before continuing, “If everyone is in agreement we will make the trade in two days. Jeff thinks we have about a week or so before the snow starts sticking so we will try to get the walls up on this building and the last of the ditch around the outer wall before we have to stop work.”  
  
He cleared his throat before continuing, “I wanted everyone to know that there have been an increasing amount of people at our gate. There seem to be large numbers leaving the east coast and the cities heading west now and they see our gate and stop. Unless they need to see Dr. Mike for something, we send them away.” He glanced down at Pam with a slight tilt of his head, knowing this was a sore point for her but he pressed on, “We can’t take any more people, at least through the winter. Maybe in the spring, we can look to expand but we have to make sure we have enough for the next few months.”  
  
There was a soft murmur of approval that wove through the crowd. “I know it doesn’t seem fair but it’s the only way right now. I just wanted everyone to know.”  
  
______________  
  
  
Jim has never really liked this. No, he actually hated it. The logical, sane, civilized part of his brain told him this is a medical professional performing an exam in a professional, detached way. The more basic, neanderthal, possessive, and sometimes louder part of his brain had a serious issue with another man anywhere near Pam’s body, particularly the location Mike was touching now. He felt his skin crawl the same way it did when the lactation consultant was all over her breasts, rather excessively he still contends, but he silenced that louder voice with a long, steadying exhale. He stilled his bouncing leg, willing the logical side to take over as he spun his wedding band mindlessly between two fingers. That seemed to be working until he began to think that this was worse because this same man has probably had his hands on his sister—  
  
“Jim, are you listening?” Pam looked up at him. She was laying on the table with a sheet draped discreetly over her lap and legs and he was supposed to be supporting her, he mentally chastised himself.  
  
“Uh, yeah.” She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Uh no sorry, I’m sorry.”  
  
“He said that I’m already dilating and the baby will be here soon.”  
  
Dr. Brooks continued as he helped her sit up, “I definitely think he or she will come quickly since this is your third baby, so be ready for that. I wouldn’t travel anywhere from here on out but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem in this snow.”  
  
“Thanks, Mike, so much,” Pam said quietly as Mike politely left the room. “Okay, what is up with you today?”  
  
“I’m sorry, my mind was drifting.” Jim reached over to help her off the table and grabbed her underwear and pants.  
  
“Obviously, Jim. What were you thinking about? You’re not worried about the delivery, are you? It will be fine, babe.” She reached over to stroke his arm reassuringly.  
  
“No, I was just being an idiot.”  
  
She squinted skeptically at him. “Was it because Mike is dating your sister? He’s a nice guy, you need to let that go.” She sat back, catching her breath from the exertion of pulling her pants over her legs and buttoning them.  
  
Pam was to the point where she was absolutely miserable. Getting up and down and putting on her clothes took so much energy, and her diaphragm and lungs so crowded in her small body, she was out of breath by the time she did it. She was ready for this to be all over, and she had told him that on more than one occasion. Jim had been trying to distract her by making her laugh like he was so good at doing, by talking to the baby and trying to make her as comfortable as possible despite his growing determination that it was a lost cause. Maybe Toby was right, maybe he was a selfish prick for doing this to her.  
  
“Yeah well, he needs to learn how to use a gun. This whole ‘peace and love’ stuff isn’t going to keep her safe.”  
  
“Jim.” She tilted her head at him and gave him a look of annoyance. “The fact that he’s sleeping with your sister has nothing to do with that opinion, I’m sure.”  
  
“Gross. Change the subject.” He tried to hide his small smile as he helped her up from her chair.  
  
“You are impossible,” she groaned and pushed her fists into the small of her back. He took the hint and replaced her hands with his, kneading the tight, tense muscles on either side of her spine with his thumbs. She leaned back into it with a satisfied sound, resting the back of her head against his shoulder.  
  
“I know I’m wasting my breath but please be careful today. If you get hurt again, I will shoot you myself.” Her voice was rolling with the pleasure of his hands but he knew the seriousness beneath it.  
  
“I have no doubt you would, Beesly.”  
  
  
________________  
  
  
When they pulled up, Mac was standing there, a satisfied smirk and nauseating bravado on his face, flanked by his men in an obvious show of force. The long-forgotten blacktop of the schoolyard had been a mutually agreed upon meeting place, mostly because of the lack of nearby buildings containing any shooters but also because of the convenience to both farms. Faded painted lines and a broken metal basketball hoop welcomed them along with ten of Mac’s men taking various places around the two trucks. The omen of the burnt-out gym building behind them stirred the uneasiness in Jim’s stomach as he stepped over the knee-high weeds that had grown through the cracks in the pavement.  
  
They stood there studying each other before Mac broke the silence. “Mr. Halpert, what a fine day to be meeting you here.”  
  
“We brought everything you asked for.” Jim pressed, hoping to get this over with as painlessly as possible.  
  
“And we brought your two barrels. This is the beginning of a beautiful business relationship, don’t you think?” Jim gave him a blank expression before motioning with a nod to open the back of the flatbed truck. Men from both groups began to transfer the crates and boxes from one vehicle to the other.  
  
Jim scanned the group quickly, “Where’s Toby?”  
  
A faint grin belied Mac’s feigned ignorance, “Toby? I’m afraid I don’t know a Toby...”  
  
“Mousy dude with the backpack,” Johnny supplied smugly from nearby and Brian locked eyes with him until he finally looked away.  
  
“Oh yes! Toby. Now I remember. I had a very interesting discussion with him. He doesn’t like you very much, Halpert, but that wife of yours? Man, I really need to meet her, apparently. You know, when she’s conscious.”  
  
Jim blinked slowly and swallowed hard, using every ounce of his strength to contain the storm of anger beginning to swirl inside him.  
  
“Is he dead?”  
  
“Why do you care? He wanted to bang your wife.”  
  
“Is he dead?” His voice punctuating every word with cold intent.  
  
Mac shifted his weight, noticeably freeing his right hand and letting it fall near his weapon. “He might have had an unfortunate encounter with my knife.”  
  
Jim clenched his jaw with a shake of his head and glanced at Brian with a purposeful look.  
  
“I don’t understand you, Halpert. I dealt with a problem that is mutually beneficial and you look like I kicked your dog.”  
  
Jim brought his eyes back to meet his; stony verdant matching the impassive blue of Mac’s. He took a step forward lowering his voice, “Someday you and I are going to have a serious disagreement that’s not going to end well for you.”  
  
Everyone visibly tensed at the change in atmosphere and the air crackled with anxious energy.  
  
One corner of Mac’s mouth lifted at the challenge. “Why wait? Today is as good as any.”  
  
“Someday.” The word hung between them; the slow, confident lift of his chin, a promise.  
  
  
_________________  
  
  
“Pam?”  
  
When he walked into their room, he found his tiny wife standing beneath the mattress turned on its end, towering over her. Her small body and large protruding belly fitfully trying to negotiate the large unwieldy object with a huff.  
  
“There you are. What are you doing?” He strode over to her quickly taking it from her in one swift motion and setting it down on the box springs with a loud thump.  
  
“Pam, what is wrong with you? You are nine months pregnant, why are you doing this?”  
  
She was completely undeterred by his admonishment and started pulling at the fitted sheet instead. “I needed to flip the mattress. I didn’t hear you get back. How did it go?”  
  
“As good as can be expected, I guess.”  
  
“Did we get the salt?”  
  
“Yeah.” A twinge of uneasiness rippled down his back and he dropped his head resignation.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
He stilled, afraid that uttering the words would bring a cold finality to the entire affair. “Toby’s dead.”  
  
“Jim.” She murmured and stepped into his arms. With practiced ease, there was no space between them to define where one ended and the other began; just the existence of _them._ Singular.  
  
He smoothed back the hair behind her ears, and lifted her face to his, kissing her between her eyebrows. He loved every part of her face surely; her piercing, viridescent eyes that saw into his soul, her mouth that spoke her mind freely but one of his favorite places, the smooth, pale spot between her brows is where his lips sought solace now. “It’s my fault.”  
  
“How is this your fault?”  
  
“I pushed him to leave. If I hadn’t shoved him and told him to stay away he would have never left.”  
  
She shook her head against his words. “He wasn’t thinking straight, you know that. You had nothing to do with him going to Mac.”  
  
“Didn’t I? It seems like every decision I make, someone gets hurt.”  
  
“That is not true.” She uttered the words with such conviction he almost believed her.  
  
“We are here right now, at this farm, only because of what you’ve done. You have kept us alive. All these people are here because of what you have made this place.” She pressed her nose against his neck, her warm breath fanning across it as she spoke. “I would have never made it this far without you.”  
  
 _“That’s_ not true.” He echoed her words back to her. She was stronger and braver than she would ever believe herself to be. She would survive. He had seen it on the road when miles stretched out before them and the sun beat down on their weary existence and she would look at him and smile or reach for his hand. Courage took many forms and hers was subtle but powerful just the same, speaking life into his soul.  
  
“You know this world now, come on.” Thoughts of what would likely happen, and very likely against her wishes, caused a cold, sick feeling to settle in the pit of his stomach. The thought of another man raising _his_ children, sleeping in _his_ bed with _his_ wife was too much and he pushed them violently out of his mind with a shake of his head.  
  
Grief riddled exhaustion washed over him in its place. “I’m tired. I don’t want this anymore; to be the leader.”  
  
He put his lips on her neck where it met her shoulder, knowing the soft patch of skin there would safely absorb the words formed by his innermost thoughts, knowing they would go no further than this.  
  
“I am so scared. So scared every day that I’m going to lose you or the kids. It would break me, Pam. People look to me, but if they only knew how scared I was, that I am a coward.”  
  
She reached up, her fingers stroking the hair at the back of his neck as she whispered in return, “But you are brave, despite the fear, you are so brave. That’s not a coward and that’s what people see.”  
  
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wanting to disappear entirely into her skin. She was the sanctuary that kept his secrets.  
  
____________  
  
  
  
Jack Everett Halpert was born on a Tuesday morning.  
  
Snow was falling heavy outside and the world seemed exceptionally quiet. Pam screamed, Larissa cried and Jim was fairly certain he didn’t breathe the entire time. All he could do was hold her and utter pointless words of encouragement in awe of what she could do with her body. Despite having lived through this twice before, he wasn’t any less scared and helpless; nature’s way of giving men perspective and putting them in their place. In the end, there was a new human being, born of love and flesh and miracles. Witnessing a birth was a delicate balance of life-giving violence and terrifying adoration but nothing could compare to holding his second son for the first time. It was as if, despite the dying, cold world around them, a bit of humanity was placed back amidst the devastation.  
  
“He’s amazing.” Pam tiredly looked over at him holding Jack in the recliner near the corner of the room.  
  
“He is perfect. You were incredible,” he stared at their son, marveling at his tiny fingernails on his miniature, soft hand.  
  
“Is it too soon to say ‘I told you so’ about him being a boy?”  
  
Pam had closed her eyes in exhaustion and didn’t bother to open them with her reply, “If you don’t want to be kicked out of the room it is.”  
  
He chuckled and looked back down at Jack and whispered, “Your mother doesn’t like it when I say that, buddy. Welcome to the world, little man. Such as it is, anyway.”

  
  



	14. The Birth and Death of a Day

Sustenance was a gift, and pleasure a rarity After. As Pam looked around the room at the people who had become her family, she could not help but feel that this was her fate. The events in her life playing out in some perfectly orchestrated sequence of pain and growth and love that ultimately placed her here. That this house, with its warm fires and cherished people, might be all that was left of the goodness in this world. She had no way of knowing if this yellow farmhouse, that contained everything she held dear, was indeed the light on the hill in a lost existence and honestly, she didn’t care. As long as the people in this room were alive and well she would be happy. Relinquishing control to the pull of providence that brought her to this place and to this time.  
  
It was Christmas and they had survived another year. The holidays used to mean presents and decorations, parties and gluttony. It took on a whole new significance now. It was still a celebration but one that reveled in the fact they had food and heat at all. Jeff and Henry had found a rather scraggly spruce that passed as a Christmas tree; Erin and the children decorating it with paperclip ornaments. The heavy snow kept everyone confined to their own homes and afforded the group in the main house seclusion that they rarely enjoyed.  
  
She sat contentedly off to the side, a tiny sleeping Jack in her arms, his warm weight in complete trusting surrender.  
  
“There’s no mistletoe.” Jim leaned over and kissed her lightly then joined her on the bench.  
  
“Ah well, you can’t have everything.” She smiled and reached for the drink he held, taking much of it for herself.  
  
He made a face at his nearly empty glass when she handed it back to him. “You want me to take him? You can go get something to eat.”  
  
“I’m fine. You don’t have to.” He looked at his empty glass again with a resigned shake of his head before setting it down.  
  
“It’s obviously an opportunity for me to walk around and show off the results of my superior genes,” he scoffed.  
  
“Oh, is that what you are showing off?”  
  
Jim snickered and reached for Jack, “Go. I’ve got him. I’ll find you when he wants to eat. Don’t forget we need to find time to exchange presents. It’s tradition.”  
  
Her face dropped, “Jim, it sucks when I have nothing to give you.”  
  
“Well, I’m already holding gift number one and gift number two, I get most nights of the week, sometimes more than once.”  
  
It was her turn to shake her head with a slight roll of her eyes at his reference, tilting her face up to him amusingly.  
  
“So, I’m not sure what you are talking about. You’ve already got me beat if we are keeping score.”  
  
She reached over and grabbed his face, giving him a long, deep kiss; the taste of his forgotten drink on her mouth.  
  
“And there’s gift number three. Totally not fair, Beesly.”  
  
_______________  
  
“You guys don’t know how good you have it.” Isabel leaned over and spoke softly to Brian as they watched everyone from the far edge of the room. They now spent almost all their free time together. Like magnets, they always seemed to pull in direction of each other until they were once again breathing the same air. He had become a master at finding excuses to visit wherever she was working and if she noticed, she never said anything. Instead, she would give him a knowing smile as he appeared for the fifth time that day. Letting her make all the moves had resulted in nothing but lingering glances, but he was just content being near her; talking and spending time with her was enough for him.  
  
“We. _We_ have it. You belong here now,” he looked over at her, several emotions moving across his face before he could catch them. She smiled softly as a reply, holding his gaze a second too long before dropping her eyes to study the drink in her hand.  
  
He momentarily wanted to analyze what that meant, the way he always did with every look and sigh and pull of her lips. He would lay awake in his bed at night, replaying each one in his mind hoping to God he hadn’t done something to screw up the tenuous balance between falling on his knees in front of her and reassuring her that he was different. He cleared his throat, bringing the conversation to safer ground.

“We’ve been out here so long it’s easy to forget.”

She took a sip, wiping the moisture off the edge of the glass with her thumb contemplatively, “Tent City wasn’t even the worst of it. There are so many horrible people out there. So much evil.” An involuntarily shiver caused her to visibly tremble and he wanted so desperately to take her in his arms, to keep away the monsters, both the past and present, if she would let him. Instead, he shifted his weight and kept them motionless at his side.  
  
He felt her rest her head against his shoulder, and he held his breath, feeling the warm weight of her contact reaching his skin through his shirt. He glanced down at her carefully, the lantern light grazing the lines of her cheek and mouth perfectly, as a piece of her soft, cinnamon hair fell forward. She was beautiful and he was afraid to move.  
  
“I am very glad I’m here.” Her delicate voice reached his ears and it drew from him a painfully honest reply.  
  
“I am very glad you are here, too.”  
  
  
________________  
  
  
“See, I knew when you stole my son from me and disappeared, you had an ulterior motive. Angela was right, you just wanted to avoid cleaning up.”  
  
The room was quiet and pleasant, the only light coming from the fire where she sat contentedly in the high-backed chair and under a crocheted blanket. The sounds of their son greedily nursing the only competition with the crackling of the fire. Jim moved silently across the room in the hope of preserving the serene warmth that existed there.  
  
“Guilty.” She mumbled softly as she moved his small, sleeping mass to her shoulder, her hand beginning a gentle rhythm against his back.  
  
Jim sat quietly on the edge of the bed with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I offered myself as tribute and she seemed satisfied. You are in her good graces again.”  
  
“Have I ever been in her good graces?”  
  
He shrugged admittedly and placed a shoebox wrapped in tissue on the bed next to him.

  
“Trade.” He reached for Jack, setting him slowly in his bassinet before tuning and laying the gift in her lap with nervous anticipation.  
  
She tore the paper carefully. “Where did you find tissue?” she questioned but he just shrugged again. Inside the shoebox was a complete set of oil pencils and her hand hovered over them as if touching them would somehow make them vanish without a trace.  
  
“Oh my God...Jim,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with moisture.  
  
“Do you like it?” He searched her face, hoping he hadn’t misjudged the frivolous gift. There was no practicality in art when focused on survival but he knew she longed for it; for creating beauty for beauty’s sake with her hands. It was part of who she was and he would do anything to see that part of her again.

“Where? _How?_ ”  
  
“When we were in Tent City. I felt kind of guilty. I was supposed to be finding those kids and I was Christmas shopping. I saw them in a booth I went in and I had to have them. I stuck them in Brian’s bag so you wouldn’t see them.”  
  
“Oh my God,” she repeated, her voice breathy in awe as she finally dared to brush her fingertips across them.  
  
He continued, encouraged. “I know we don’t have the right paper or whatever but I can keep looking for it. There’s was a community college up near Franklin that might have an art room. I can check —“  
  
Without warning she pushed him back on the bed and covered him on all fours, her small body trapping his underneath it as she surrounded him. She pressed her lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. He groaned softly as her mouth found his and slid his hands up the outside of her legs to the curve of her waist as he laid back and enjoyed her attention. She opened her eyes and looked down at him through the hair falling around her face as she tucked one side mindlessly behind her ear.  
  
“So you like it.” He couldn't hide the smug smile that crept across his face. 

He trailed his fingers slowly down her vertebrae until he reached the small of her back and she inhaled with a small shudder.  
  
She smiled lazily against his mouth with a whispered, “I love it.”  
  
She pressed the weight of her body against him, their bodies aligning by natural design; the firelight making her hair glisten gold and chestnut.  
  
“Sometimes I wonder how you ended up with me. How did that happen?”  
  
“You. Me. Dysfunctional paper company.” She murmured as she kissed him softly, her body melting into his as she opened her mouth, offering something deeper.  
  
He pulled back slightly, bringing his hand to her face, his thumb dragging across her lips, tracing the path his tongue had just made.  
  
“You know, this is torture for me since I can’t have you for another two weeks,” he muttered in lament as his other hand squeezed her ass and ran back up her waist, mapping her curves that offered no resistance. He understood whys and reasoning but his lush, soft wife writhing above him made the six-week waiting period after a baby a very, very long six weeks.  
  
“Well, there are other ways I can show my gratitude that does not involve ‘down there’,” she licked her lips and smirked, the inflection in her voice unmistakable.  
  
His eyes were suddenly entranced by her mouth, “Indeed there are, and you are extremely talented at them. Is this my gift?”  
  
She sighed and sat up, “No, but you’ll probably wish it was after you see it.”  
  
The heat of her body draped over his left with a rush of cold air replacing it and he reluctantly joined her.

“Come on, I’m sure it will be amazing.”

She reached down underneath their bed and pulled out a rectangular shape, wrapped in yellowing newspaper and held together with twine. 

He mimicked her motion, leaning over the bed to look under it, “Wow, that was slick. What else do you have under there?”  
  
She shoved him gently, “Just open it.”  
  
He carefully pulled at the wrapping, sliding the twine off the sides, to find a small stack of very old Sports Illustrated magazines. Their faded colors and dated print choices speaking to their age.

“Wow.”

“They’re vintage I think. Pete found them at that doctor’s house you guys have gone to a couple of times. I’m sure they were quite valuable Before.”  
  
“These are awesome.” He carefully flipped through the pages. The musty smell of aged paper fanning over both of them.  
  
“Don’t get too excited. There isn’t a swimsuit issue, I checked already.”  
  
Jim chuckled and leaned over to kiss her warmly, stroking her cheek with his thumb, “I love them.”  
  
“I have one more gift but honestly this is more for me anyway.” He got up and walked over to the dresser, opening the sticky bottom drawer with a slight tug.  
  
“Is it lingerie?”  
  
“No, but _my God_ why didn’t I think of that?”  
  
She giggled faintly and he was reminded why it was one of his most favorite sounds in the world.  
  
He set a small single blade knife with an ankle strap in her hand.  
  
“What is this?”  
  
“It’s a knife you keep on you, on your ankle, down under those hiking boots you love to wear.” He motioned to her lower body as he returned to sit next to her.  
  
She studied it, turning the cold blade over in her hands and testing the weight of it. Her thumbnail rubbed over the engraved letters, passing over the grooves as she sounded out the word.  
  
“Virtus. Is that Latin?”  
  
“Yeah, I asked Mike about it. He thinks it stands for ‘courage’ or ‘virtue’ or something like that. I’m sure it meant something to the person who had it Before.”  
  
“Why do I need a knife?”  
  
Lying down on the bed next to her, he propped up on his elbow, his hand tracing patterns on her thigh. “In case I’m not there, or you lose your gun or you need to rescue me from train robbers.”  
  
He was rewarded with another bemused chuckle, “Train robbers, huh?”  
  
“You never watched those cartoons growing up where the person was tied to the railroad tracks by train robbers and they were cut loose right at the last minute?”  
  
She laughed this time, “No, I guess I missed those.”  
  
He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, “I just want you to be safe. I can’t lose you.”  
  
___________  
  
  
Jim stared out the window of the kitchen, watching the snowdrift into small mountains of glistening white across the yard. It had stopped snowing and now the cold wind pushed the frozen moisture around making new patterns relentlessly. Being mostly contained indoors now, he preoccupied himself in the storage room, arranging and organizing when not entertaining Pam. His entertainment wasn’t always welcomed and occasionally she would tell him the guns needed polishing; her loving way of kicking him out. She always welcomed tea though and so he used that as an excuse to linger in the afternoon.  
  
Mike paused in the doorway of the kitchen before moving behind Jim, alerting him to his presence.  
  
“Oh hey, how’s it going?”  
  
Mike shifted stiffly. “Just coming for the same thing you are it looks like. How is Jack doing?”  
  
“He’s good. Growing like a weed. Pam is feeding him right now so I thought I would bring her a cup of decaf tea.” Jim held up her cup for effect.  
  
“That’s good. I’ll do a check-up in a couple of days.”  
  
The atmosphere of uneasiness between two men felt like a tangible wall in the space of the room. Both of them stood with cups in hand staring at the faded green kettle.  
  
Mike nervously started, “Hey, I don’t know if this is the right time or whatever but since you are her brother,”  
  
“Oh, God…” Jim whispered and closed his eyes.  
  
“I just wanted you to know that I’m serious about her, that this isn’t just something to pass the time or…” He struggled to find the words, “I know you don’t like that I don’t want to fight…”  
  
Jim turned to him, “If you are serious about her, what are you going to do when she’s in danger? What if one of Mac’s men comes in here and wants to hurt her? What then?”  
  
“That’s not going to happen. We have plenty of fighters.” His dismissive tone compelled Jim to continue.

“Okay, what happens when there isn’t someone like me or Brian or Pete around? What if it’s just you and her? Come on.” Jim turned back to the ancient stove frustrated.  
  
“I would do something. I’m sorry I just don’t find it that easy to hurt and kill people like you do.”  
  
Jim glared at him in disbelief, “Do you actually think I _like_ doing the things I’ve had to do? I wasn’t always like this, you know. I was a paper salesman Before. I wore a tie and sat behind a desk. I only knew how to use a gun from my dad who used to take us target practicing as a kid. I’ve only done the things I’ve had to do because it kept my family safe, it kept _her_ safe,” he pointed upstairs and Mike wasn’t sure if he meant Pam or Larissa, or both.

“I would do it a hundred times over if I had to. It's not about ideologies anymore or what we wish the world was. It just isn’t, man. You have to decide what matters and then do whatever you can to keep it. Sometimes that means making impossible decisions; choices that take a piece of you. There’s always a price but that is why I’m here, to keep them alive, that’s it.”  
  
The tea kettle began to squeal and Jim picked it up and poured his and Pam’s cup and set it back on the woodstove.  
  
“Jim, I…”  
  
Jim didn’t let him finish, leaving him alone with the screaming, angry kettle.  
  
  
_____________  
  
  
Mike went back to the study where Larissa was reading a medical book, curled up in the oversized chair in the corner of the room. She looked absolutely wonderful wearing his sweatshirt with her fuzzy socks. He really did love her. He actually had begun to even think about the ‘M’ word. His parents had endured a terrible marriage and he never thought there would ever be a woman that he would be willing to subject himself to that for. Now, when he thought about life in 10 or 15 years, he only saw her.

Jim’s words rattled around in his mind. He didn’t know what he would do if a situation came where he had to resort to violence or go as far as taking another person's life, something he vowed against when he took his oath. Up until now, he only had himself and he was a doctor which made him extremely valuable. People lined up to keep him around, alive. One day he woke up and it wasn’t just him that he cared about anymore.

  
“Your brother hates me.” He flopped down into his desk chair with a disgruntled huff.  
  
Larissa laughed and looked up from her reading, “He doesn’t hate you. You delivered his son.”  
  
He picked up a pen on the desk, twirling it between his fingers expertly. “No, I’m pretty sure he does…when it comes to you.”  
  
“Well, he’s always been the protective big brother, even more than Pete and Tom. I think it is because we were closer than I was to them. Pete and Tom terrorized us both because we were younger. We kind of stuck together.”  
  
She put down her book and crossed the room to sit in his lap and he wrapped his arms around her contentedly. “He’ll come around. He wants me to be happy and you make me happy.”  
  
“Maybe I should learn how to shoot and fight. My parents were hippies or at least the New Hampshire version of one. They always told me that fighting was for the weak-minded and violent. I guess I never thought I would have to.”  
  
“Do you think Jim is weak-minded or violent?”  
  
“No, not at all. He is very smart,” he answered honestly. “I mean this entire town wanted him to be the leader. Everybody thinks he’s great…even though he’s killed people.”  
  
“Well, there you go. Jim is a good man and so are you. You two will work it out.” She leaned down and kissed him so convincingly that he actually believed she might be right.


	15. A Coward Might Call it a Conscience, a Liar Might Call it the Truth

She knew she had to be dreaming. It wasn't sound of the leaves crunching beneath her feet, or the howling wind, it was the woman and the baby, both she knew no longer existed. It was the sound of Larissa emerging from the barbershop with the broken windows, blood covering her as she collapsed into Jim's arms sobbing.  
  
Her mind drifted further into the memory. They had crossed a river, the old concrete bridge covered in cracked asphalt and weeds had seemed benign enough when a small gathering of people on the other side mirrored their position. She remembered Jim and Brian tensing and raising their weapons but instead a mix of worried and apathetic faces stared back at them when the poor woman's painful cries pierced the silent standoff. Larissa nervously agreed to help, as she was their only hope for a dozen miles in any direction.  
  
The small woman with her tremendously large belly was covered in filthy rags, flanked by three men, a haphazard family unit. Any one of them could have been the father, having all three claimed to be 'with her' in exchange for food and safety. Whatever that meant in the new, rather blurred lines of morality in After. When the screaming stopped, a tenuous silence fell upon everyone waiting outside and everything was cold, weathered and faded again. Hope was once again dead. Nothing to see here.  
  
She focused on the dust and ash covering every surface as Larissa's desperate sobs muffled in Jim's shirt filled her ears. The group quietly gathered their belongings and continued West, wordlessly leaving the bodies in the abandoned town.  
  
She inhaled sharply as the scene from her memory slipped away like sand through her fingers and was replaced by the ceiling in her bedroom and Jim's large hand wrapped around her own.  
  
"Hey," his subdued voice calming her drumming heart and the cries still ringing in her mind. "You were having a nightmare."  
  
"Where are the children?" She needed to take inventory of the other irreplaceable elements of her life along with one sitting next to her on the bed.  
  
"Jack is right here, still asleep, although he has been stirring so I have a feeling the clock is ticking on your free time. Cece was doing her chores when I saw her earlier and Phillip is having second breakfast."  
  
She exhaled, allowing his words to wash over her and bring her into the present. "Second breakfast?"  
  
"Yes, _your_ son has added on new mealtimes to his schedule. Second breakfast, not to be confused with snack time, that falls shortly before lunch. I'm beginning to think a cot in the kitchen might be a good idea."  
  
"Both of _your sons_ are bottomless pits." She ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to tame the curls she knew were sticking up, even without the need of a mirror.  
  
He hummed his reply with a smirk, relinquishing the contest momentarily on who's genetic material was responsible for their sons' ferocious appetites, as he moved to put on a flannel shirt over the T-shirt he wore, working the buttons up from the bottom.  
  
"What were you dreaming about?"  
  
"That woman and baby we met on the road," she spoke quietly, trying to not evoke the memory with her words, "and the men she was with." He nodded slowly and she knew he was recalling the horrific tableau of that day. Actively pushing the memory of blood seeping onto the stained linoleum of the barbershop out of her mind again, she moved on to the first thought that came to her. "I can't imagine having three of you. Just one of you wears me out."  
  
Jim snorted a laugh, "Well, that's good. I'm not interested in sharing you. Ever."  
  
She noticed for the first time that he was fully dressed while she was still sitting in the middle of their bed surrounded by a small mountain of sheets and blankets. "Where have you been?"  
  
"We were moving some things from the outer barns to the closer one while there's a break in the snow."  
  
"There are more things missing, now some personal things are gone from a few of the cabins. The chickens, bags of cornmeal, and now this. It's more than a coincidence." He sat down in the wooden chair, the same one she had used to hold her vigil at his bedside, and a small shiver trickled down her spine.  
  
"Someone is sneaking in and stealing things?"  
  
"There's no way someone is getting past our barriers now. It has to be someone inside." He shook his head, leaning back and crossing his long legs casually at the ankle.  
  
"But who? We know these people."  
  
"We don't really know them. We brought them here from town with no questions."  
  
With a frustrated huff, she threw back the blankets and slid to the edge of the bed, "Why does it seem every time I want to help people they end up screwing us over?"  
  
"That's not always the case. We just have to be careful. What we have here now is rare and people are going to come for it." He rubbed the back of his neck in contemplation.  
  
"I guess they always will." His voice was low, hardly more than a breath and she felt the weight of it, of keeping everyone alive, safe behind the walls they had erected. Not nearly as he did, she realized, but her decisions had ramifications far beyond her own life now.  
  
She looked over him carefully, reaching out and wrapping her fingers in his silently, needing to touch him. She watched as the muscles and tendons in his forearm moved and flexed under the skin and his fingers wove an endless pattern in hers.  
  
"What are you going to do when you find out who it is?" She knew his answer before he could respond but there was a finality in speaking it, a certainty that it would likely mean sentencing them to death.  
  
"Kick them out."

______________________

  
Mike slammed the lid of the box closed with an inarticulate curse.  
  
"Damn it."  
  
Larissa looked up from the kitchen where she was slicing a piece of bread off of the freshly made loaf. Wind howled viciously outside and she felt content that her chores were all inside today. She pushed her long chestnut hair, the same color as Jim's, back over her shoulder and it fell in waves down her back.  
  
"Don't let Angela hear you say that around the kids, she'll bite your head off. Ask me how I know." She finished with a mumble.  
  
"I can't find my other surgical kit. I must have left it at the office in town."  
  
"Have Brian or Jim get it next time they go," she offered and took a bite of the piece she had buttered.  
  
"I'll just go, I don't want to bother them."  
  
She put down her plate, the tilt of her head communicating her disdain for his plan, "What if you run into Mac's guys or something? Just wait for my brother."  
  
He didn't know what about her comment pissed him off more, the fact she found him incompetent to run a simple errand or that she felt he needed her brother as protection. He was more than capable of taking care of himself and his male pride was wounded that his girlfriend didn't think so. He huffed and without another word went to go grab his coat and find suitable transportation.  
  
He opened the creaking door of the small car, grimacing at the loud sound of it, one of several that had been restored to working order by the hobbyist mechanic that had been acquired in the new group from town. The guards at the gate gave him a wary look but waved him through and he hoped that by the time anyone had been alerted to his leaving, he would be safely back.  
  
The wind pushed leaves and debris across the abandoned road in front of him, and the sagging wires from the tilted utility poles draped over the expanse, whipping and swaying with a whine. As he got closer, he pulled the rusted Acura behind an old building, struggling briefly with the manual transmission, recalling that hiding the car was what Jim and Brian had always done.  
  
Finding the facade of his office, he pushed the stuck door open, warped from moisture. He breathed in the dusty stale air and took a long look around, remembering the pride this clinic held for him in the fulfillment of his dreams and how that dream was now as neglected as this room. Sighing, he shoved a discarded phonebook out of the way with his foot, swollen and sodden from the weather, examining the indifference that he felt now and how his focus had shifted away from material objects and successful careers and towards her.  
  
Meticulously going through the metal cabinets that lined the back wall of his old exam room, he heard voices coming from outside causing him to freeze before dropping down behind the dusty examination table to listen.  
  
"Do you have any idea what it looks like?"  
  
"Shit man, I don't know. It looks like this drawing."  
  
The voices faded again as they walked by and away from the front door of his office towards the auto parts store next door. He could still hear the muffled sound of their voices through the shared wall and vents and quietly moved over to the wall to get closer, crouching down behind the chair in the corner.  
  
"What the hell does he need it for? We have two working trucks now."  
  
"All he said before he left to go get those guys is he wants a couple more running before the last snow finishes melting so we can go after the big place. I guess he thinks we need them."  
  
"Shit, they're nothing but a bunch of farmers with pitchforks. I don't know why we don't just bust in there like we've done before."  
  
"Not only do they have tons of food and guns but I've heard they have females. Lots of 'um." There was more shuffling and crashing as they worked through the storage room  
  
"If I was running this shit show I would just kill all those fuckers and get the goods."  
  
"Watch what you say, man," one of the men warned, "I seen Mac just up an' shoot dudes in the head for questioning him." There was a loud sound of falling boxes then, "Find this damn part, keep looking."  
  
Seemingly finding what they were looking for, they left. Mike waited, sliding down the wall slightly and sitting, arms across his knees for several minutes before grabbing the surgical kit he came for and making his way back to the hidden car. When he walked back in the farmhouse, he felt shaken, a worldview shift that had left his mind scrambling. Larissa came around the corner and stopped.  
  
"Where did you go? You went, didn't you? Damn it, Mike!"  
  
He met her eyes and everything became crystal clear to him.  
  
"I need to talk to Jim."

__________________

  
"Uh hey, you got a minute?" Mike spoke from the doorway of the storage room, cautiously. Jim was focused on his task, completely unaware that Mike had descended the stairs.  
  
He didn't turn from his undertaking, his voice coming from the vicinity of the back of his head. "Yeah, what's up?"  
  
"I want to learn. To shoot… I mean."  
  
He turned to him and nodded, "Ok, good," his eyes squinting speculatively at the sudden change opinion and Mike met his stare. "Brian is a better instructor, he was military. He'll be back in a while and he can take you out to shoot."  
  
Mike finally looked away and around the room carefully. It was floor to ceiling weapons with racks of rifles and pistols neatly running along the length if the wall with bins of clips and bullets underneath. Industrial, florescent lamps hung from the ceiling, no longer of use, now collected dust. A giant map of the area was hung on one end, large Xs on various places with labels and names. It was a war room. A newly realized necessity in After.  
  
Jim was sitting at a table with a tall, blue machine and a basket of bullets, shells, and shelves of jars of gunpowder. He had never set foot in this room before and it was quite overwhelming and intimidating.  
  
"What are you doing?" He hedged, hoping to close the distance still evident between them.  
  
Jim glanced at him to judge his level of interest, "I'm reloading bullets. You take the spent shell casings, clean them and add the gun powder, firing pin, and bullet. This machine presses them all together."  
  
"I didn't know you could do that," he replied for lack of a better thing to say, out of his element.  
  
"Well, bullets aren't manufactured anymore so being able to make them ourselves gives us an advantage. That's what Brian and I do when we take the lead balancing weights out of abandoned tires. We melt them down to make new bullets."  
  
Jim looked around the room lost in an unspoken memory, "This was all Dwight's. He got all this Before."  
  
He dropped his head before looking over at Mike again and chuckled at his obviously bewildered expression, "Have you held a gun before?" He shook his head and before he could object, Jim walked over to the wall of pistols, taking one down, checking the chamber swiftly and handing it to him, "This is a Glock. It's a good one to start with. It's empty, see how I checked it?"  
  
Mike turned the gun over in his hands, feeling the weight of the cold metal. The line between the long-held beliefs about death and violence now blurring in his mind.  
  
"Did I ever tell you about when we left Scranton?" Mike shook his head; this conversation proving to be the longest they had ever shared.  
  
"We were actually staying in a hotel on The Day. We were moving to Austin and all our stuff was already packed up and gone and we were just waiting to close on the house. The power went out pretty fast, there was an explosion at the power plant. The hotel cleared out, most of the employees ran off. We didn't have anything to eat or any supplies, so we went to the store. It was insane. Everything was smashed and cleaned out. We split up to try and get as much as we could and get out of there. I took Phil to look for camping gear and Pam and Cece went to get find canned food."  
  
Jim paused and looked up to Mike who was listening intently.  
  
"I heard Cece scream. When I finally found them on the other side of the store, these two men had Pam pinned to the ground trying to rob her. When I yelled at them, they pulled her up and grabbed Cece and held a gun to their heads." He shook his head against the memory but looked at him with purpose.  
  
"These assholes had my wife and daughter and there wasn't a damn thing I could do, Mike. They took everything we had with us but thank God they didn't hurt them. That's when I knew," he shook his head with conviction, "that couldn't happen again. I had to be armed. I went to Brian's after that. I knew he had been in the Army and I figured he would know where to get a gun. I was right."  
  
Mike was quiet for a moment, turning the words over in his mind, "I went into town today." Jim turned completely around in his seat at his uttered confession.  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
Mike continued, his voice detached as relayed the details.  
  
"There was a kit at my old office that I needed. When I was there, two of Mac's men went into the parts store next door to my office. They didn't see me, I hid," he looked down in embarrassment and he didn't know why. "They are trying to get a third truck working so they are ready to attack us. They mentioned Mac went to go pick up some guys, in Ohio I think. Their voices weren't always clear."  
  
Jim nodded slowly, his eyes soft and unfocused, deep in thought at this new information.  
  
Mike sighed and looked down at the gun in his hands, "I can't say I'm happy about it but I get it now. Those guys, Mac's men, are monsters. They're not interested in talking or negotiations, they just want to take. When I heard their plan is to kill all the men and take this place... I knew I had to do anything to keep them as far away from Larissa as possible."  
  
Jim's shoulders set with cold determination as he fixed his eyes on Mike's.  
  
"That's not going to happen. We aren't going to let it happen."

  
__________________

  
The snow continued to melt, freezing again in the bitter wind, only to melt again as the sunlight filtered its faint, brief warmth through the grey sky. The world took on an ash color now, everything variations and shades of the same bleak monotone. Barren and silent.  
  
Jim's mind drifted to broken asphalt and to corpses lying in doorways, things that would forever be burned into his memory. He traced the outline of the ice that formed on the other side of the windowpane with his thumb, as he half-listened to the conversation taking place in the living room.  
  
"The truth is, our group is heavy on the ladies and children and old guys like me. We need more fighters." Henry spoke from the high-backed chair in the corner, where many of the residents had gathered to discuss the issue.  
  
Jim reluctantly agreed. The somber truth was that Mac's group was getting braver, collecting supplies and people and it was only a matter of time before they felt strong enough to take them on. He was positive Mac knew exactly how many people and men they had now because of Toby and as it were, they were dangerously outnumbered.  
  
"I have a nephew that I've heard is still alive and at that place near here, Tent City." At the mention of Tent City, Jim and Brian looked at each other knowingly.  
  
"He's one of the good ones, that kid." The old man finished wistfully.  
  
Jim pushed away from the wall where he had been leaning, "Well, we can go see if we can find him. Maybe pick up a few more."  
  
Brian and Pete exchanged glances, assuming they would be going but Jim pushed through the murmuring crowd to find Mike. "I think you should come with us. It's time you test out those new skills."  
  
Mike worried his lips disconcertingly, "I've only been shooting a handful on times. I'm not ready."  
  
"You have more practice than I did when I first was on the road. You'll be fine." Jim replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"Are people going to be shooting at you there?" Mike countered, still not convinced.  
  
"Not likely, but you never know."  
  
"What if there is a medical emergency here?"  
  
Jim tipped his head exasperatedly, "Larissa's here. Come on, it's only a couple of days and it will be an...educational experience."  
  
Mike nodded the hint of a smile, feeling the redemptive tectonic shift between them.  
  
Pam began working her way towards them, a storm in her eyes and a look on her face that meant terrible things for her target, who noticeably braced next to him. Mike took the opportunity to excuse himself, wisely wanting to avoid the tempest of an angry woman at all costs.  
  
She crossed her arms and looked up at him. "You're going back." Her demeanor was deadly serious.  
  
"Yes, and I don't want you going this time." He stood firm against all five foot six inches of her, brave man that he was.  
  
"I wasn't planning on asking. Jack needs me." His eyebrows raised in surprise at her quick acquiesce, but it was short-lived. "Why can't you stay behind just for once?"  
  
"Pam, I can't ask men to leave their loved ones and go do something risky if I'm not willing to do that myself."  
  
Pam exhaled, beginning her retort, then shook her head in a sudden change of course. Her anger melting into resigned acknowledgment as he gathered her into his arms. She kept her arms crossed in defiance, not ready to fully accept he was leaving her again. After a long moment of him holding her, she relented to the force of his affection and wrapped her arms around his waist. She turned her ear to his chest as if she was contemplating his very soul and he hoped she knew it was hers.

__________________

  
"Is he going with you?"  
  
They stood in the living room watching him pack his bag, each in a corner, and Jim felt the wrath of both of the women in his life simultaneously from both directions.  
  
"As far as I know, why?"  
  
"This is going to be dangerous, don't you think?"  
  
"Maybe. But he's determined to go so..." Jim shrugged, loading more bullets into the empty clip.  
  
"God, he pisses me off."  
  
Jim raised eyebrows and a mocking face caught her eye, causing her anger to visibly swell.  
  
"He feels like he needs to prove his manhood or something... but mostly he thinks he needs to prove himself to you."  
  
Jim stopped his packing abruptly. "Me? What do I have to do with it?"  
  
"You are my brother," she started exasperatedly, "My only family. He wants your blessing or some equally as antiquated notion I guess. I don't understand men."  
  
Pam bit her lip and turned slightly away to hide her smile. She knew better than to get in between two battling Halperts but she also knew exactly what Jim was thinking right about now.  
  
"You don't need my blessing. As you have clearly told me on numerous occasions, you are a grown woman." There was biting sarcasm in his words that she didn't seem to pick up on.  
  
"That's what I told him! Instead, here he is going on some dangerous mission. Please make sure he gets home, okay?"  
  
"I'm not his keeper. He can do whatever he wants."  
  
Larissa was quiet for a long minute while Jim continued to pack his bag, tying his makeshift bedroll to the top.  
  
"I'm pregnant," she blurted out suddenly, "He doesn't know yet...so just make sure he comes home, okay?"  
  
Pam gasped and Jim turned slowly around to face her squarely, standing there in a silent standoff for a long moment.  
  
"Why haven't you told him?" His voice soft and laced in worry.  
  
"I don't know," she shook her head and looked down, clearly uncomfortable under her brother's scrutiny, "I don't know if he wants kids or not."  
  
"Well, it's too late, he has one." He replied sharp and unforgiving.  
  
"Ugh, Jim stop it. It will be fine, we just haven't discussed it yet. Don't tell him, please."  
  
Pam's quiet, "Oh dear," and the ticking of the old mantle clock was the only sound in the room.  
  
Jim rubbed his hands down his face and looked up at the ceiling, before placing them on his hips as he sighed. He looked over at his sister, a mixture of frustration and concern crossed his face.  
  
She met his stare with defiance, "Don't look at me like that, James."  
  
Pam moved over to her quietly, hoping to run interference between the two of them, "Are you sure? Have you taken a test?"  
  
"I found one but it didn't work. I know I am though. I haven't been late a day in my life and all the signs are there." She sighed and looked back over at Jim again, his back to her now, looking out the window.  
  
Pam rubbed her back empathetically, "It will be okay. How far?"  
  
"Eight weeks, I think," her brows knitted in worry.  
  
Pam thought she looked scared for the first time, the fight suddenly leaving her.  
  
Larissa left the room without another word to her brother and Pam walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her head against his back, anchoring herself to him.  
  
"She'll be okay. He won't leave her," she whispered softly into his shirt.  
  
He didn't respond but took a deep, ragged breath.  
  
"It seems like you're always leaving."  
  
"I'm just glad I have a place to leave you and come back to. I'm not sure I could leave if I didn't think you were all safe." He brought her hand up to his lips. "I want to be happy for her, I just hope he is committed...committed enough to at least be a father, even better, a husband."  
  
"Me too. He's come a long way. Maybe he will surprise us."  
  
She turned her head, pressing her face into the vulnerable place between his shoulder blades, inhaling deeply and willing her words to become reality.  
  
"Please be careful there, and come home to us. I don't think I could breathe in a world without you in it."

  
__________________

"Christ, I hate this place." Brian mumbled as they made their way from the hidden truck. Tent City loomed on the horizon at the top of the hill like a suffocating cloud of despair, the outline of it stood out in the grayness, a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste. It was just as Jim remembered it, the smell, the noise, everything.  
  
There were patches of snow scattered across the black, wet road and there was a stillness in the air, with the promise of more snow coming. The urgency of weather and time pressed heavy on them all.  
  
"We are in and out. As soon as we find this guy, we get home." Jim needlessly reiterated. This time all four of them had someone waiting for them and there was an unspoken consensus that the sooner they got home the better. He and Brian had tried to prepare Pete and Mike for what they were going into, but they knew it was something they would just have to witness for themselves. The frailty and ugliness of humanity on full display, retching among the ruins and emptiness of the planet.  
  
"Henry thinks he will be with a group of military buddies, so we will hit some of those types of places."  
  
"This is going to be like a needle in a haystack, you know that right?" Brian added sardonically and Jim just nodded wearily.  
  
"What kind of places are 'those types of places'?" Mike looked pointedly at Jim.  
  
"You'll see. Unfortunately."  
  
They were ushered through the gate with little fanfare after Jim had casually dropped the Ward Boss's name. As they worked through the mangled streets, there were people begging and selling desperately at every turn. The four of them were promising targets: clean, well-fed Alpha males with several weapons strapped to their bodies. In the new, skewed hierarchy of After, they were considered very well off and clearly of some influence. There seemed to be even more begging now, Jim observed, the saddest being the occasional woman, always pregnant with several small children in tow. Mostly it was sick children and starving men, many of which did not have enough clothes to keep warm so they huddled around fires made in old oil drums that speckled the streets.  
  
It didn't take long for them to find one of 'those places' and Jim moved up to the bar to ask about Henry's nephew. Being early in the day it was relatively quiet but it was clear that three things were being peddled at all these locations; flesh, alcohol, and cards. By the sixth place, it was beginning to feel like it was a lost cause.  
  
"As long as we are bar hopping, I'm going to get a drink," Brian pulled up a seat at the bar and motioned to the man behind it and Jim lamentably agreed. The previous trip he had been vigilant to protect Pam but being here now made him just want to get mind-numbingly drunk, an inclination he had never really had before in his life.  
  
"I had no idea. It's like hell or the badlands out here." Mike tilted back his head quickly, swallowing the liquid down hard with a grimace, then setting the shot glass upside down on the warped surface of the bar. "I feel like I've stepped into _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ or _Alas, Babylon_."  
  
"I think McCarthy's _The Road_ would be a better fit." Brian motioned at the bartender at the far end for another.  
  
Mike squinted at him with a mixture of disbelief and skepticism.  
  
"What? Can't a dumb Army guy know his dystopian novels?" Brian returned after noticing his reaction.  
  
Jim chuckled into his glass as the bartender turned in his direction. The man stood a foot shorter than all of them wearing a cheap worn sports coat with several repaired patches and a haircut that likely he had done himself.  
  
"You fellas looking for fun tonight? We got girls and some poker games starting soon," he spoke as he filled the four shot glasses again deftly.  
  
"No, we're fine. We are actually looking for a Brad Harrington. You wouldn't happen to know him?" Jim asked bleakly after downing the clear liquid in his glass, feeling the bad tasting, raw alcohol burn a path down his throat to his stomach.  
  
The man eyed him suspiciously, "Who's asking? There are only two reasons someone asks for Brad."  
  
They exchanged subtle glances to each other. "We know his uncle and he's trying to find him." It wasn't the whole truth but Jim figured the lie wouldn't hurt.  
  
"Uh huh," he continued to study Jim, "Well, if you are lucky he might stop by tonight."  
  
They stayed, hoping he would make an appearance and after several more rounds, Jim began to feel the promised deadening to the horrific scenes playing out around him. As the evening wore on the place became packed and the rowdiness increased by degrees. The four of them kept a low profile at the end of the bar, wanting to avoid any confrontation.  
  
The place now full of bodies and the liquor flowing, it became a scene of debauchery and reveling that would have put any biker bar to shame, Jim thought wryly. There was no discreet exchange of sex either, as a dirty, bald man thrusted into a thin woman in the back corner. Engaged in essentially people-watching, and trying to ignore what was happening in the corner, Jim noticed several things about the men occupying this place. Most of them seemed to be regulars that came here every night to play cards and ruin their livers with poorly made grain alcohol in exchange for coffee beans, bullets, salt or other things of value. They seemed mostly like mercenaries of some sort, the kind of men hired to do things others couldn't or weren't willing to do. Depraved and heavily armed, they made for a volatile pack of marauders.  
  
"You sure you boys don't want entertainment?" Jim was pulled out of his thoughts by the owner who had made his way down to their end of the makeshift bar. As strangers, they obviously stood out despite their efforts and they clearly could afford it.  
  
"No, we're not interested," he absently replied as a disruption pulled his attention.  
  
A large, very drunk man began yelling and struck one of the girls on the opposite end of the room. No one barely even noticed or looked up at the disturbance but the four of them visibly tensed and cut their eyes at each other. Brian jerked and turned in his seat so his back was turned to the poor woman.  
  
"I can't be in here much longer seeing this shit and not do anything, man," he whispered harshly to Jim.  
  
There was another desperate cry and he grimaced, turning to Brian, running his hand down his face, "I know, me either."  
  
A taller, dark-haired man walked over and pulled the guy off of her and she scampered back behind the sheets hung separating the rooms. It was hard to hear over the din of the open room but they vaguely made out what was said.  
  
"Now, now Andy didn't you ever learn that being nice gets more out of someone?"  
  
"I paid and she won't stop crying. What good is a crying whore?"  
  
"Did you ask her why? Maybe she can't handle your smell. Here," he handed the man a handful of cigarettes, "a refund, and Jesus man, go buy a shower." Several men around him laughed, the situation clearly diffused.  
  
The bartender leaned over, "That's the man you are looking for." Jim and Brian shot each other a look, and when the tall stranger reached the bar, Jim made his way over.  
  
"Brad? Brad with an uncle Henry Turner in Lycoming county?"  
  
The man turned to him, "Well, that's certainly something I've never been asked before."  
  
He studied Jim, taking in his appearance and weapons, "How do you know Uncle Henry?"  
  
"He lives at the same place as we do. What was your mother's name?"  
  
He visibly tensed at the question, "Why?"  
  
"To make sure you are really him," Jim said firmly.  
  
Something in the man's expression softened slightly, "Claire. My mother's name was Claire and she was Henry's sister."  
  
He took a long drink of the clear alcohol that had been placed in front of him and his hard face returned, "Now, enough of the 20 questions. Tell me why the hell Uncle Henry sent you and how the hell the old man is still alive."  
  
Brad was huge, easily as tall as Jim but bulkier. He reminded Jim of a more well-spoken Roy Anderson in some ways, which honestly wasn't the most comforting thought. A man went crashing through an upturned cable spool serving as a table and glass shattered everywhere with fists flying. Brad turned nonchalantly behind him to look and seemed unfazed by the chaos.  
  
"Is there a place we can talk?" Jim asked tersely, having reached his limit of the abhorrent nature of the place.  
  
"Yeah, follow me."  
  
He led them back behind a row of the curtains at the side of the bar and down a long hallway lined with small rooms on the left side, each hardly bigger than a bathroom stall, with sheets and blankets serving as doors. There was no mistaking the grunts and moans coming from behind them as they passed, ducking under the lanterns while making their way down the narrow hall.  
  
"Jesus," Pete whispered loudly at the noises.  
  
"No, he's definitely not here, man," Brad commented over his shoulder as he opened a repurposed front door from a suburban home, revealing a room with a large poker table in the center. After they filed in and shut the cumbersome door, he turned to face them.  
  
"Now, you know my name but I don't know yours…unless you are just here to kill me."  
  
"We're not going to kill you," Jim spoke first, "My name is Jim, that's Brian, Pete, and Mike. We all live on the same farm as your Uncle."  
  
"Is he dead?"  
  
Jim shook his head with a smirk, "He's not dead. We have quite a large place and we are looking for more men to…help keep some bad characters away. In exchange, you get fed and a place to live."  
  
"So you need hired soldiers? Why did Henry want to ask me?"  
  
"He said you were a good guy and those aren't easy to find anymore. I trust his judgment," he added with a shrug. "We need good guys who are willing to fight if needs be," Jim answered him truthfully, both men trying to read each other in the dim light.  
  
Brad sat back on the table with a deep breath and looked at them for a long moment before speaking again, "Well, you guys look like you are doing well and those are nice guns. You don't see those around here except for the drug lords. Is this a farm, you say? Is it yours?"  
  
"Yeah, several hundred acres. We have about 30 people, mostly families, women, and children. We are basically self-sustaining, growing our food, livestock, and hunting. It's not mine, it was a friend's and his widow lives there now."  
  
"It's tempting. The water is going bad now and making people sick. Some shit that has filtered in from the cities. There just isn't enough food to go around these days." There was a quiet contemplation among the men at the dying earth around them and hopeless finality of it all.  
  
"How many do you think you can find?" Jim broke the silence with his question.  
  
"Well, I know plenty but they won't be the kind to be happy to just work at a farm without the," he gestured around them, "perks of city life, if you know what I mean."  
  
Jim stepped forward, his demeanor changing, "Yeah well, if they come, there are no 'perks' but our wives and families live there and they will have to behave themselves…if you know what I mean." Jim mirrored his expression and held his gaze. He knew it wasn't a whole truth, he was one of only two truly married men on the farm. The term 'married' was loosely used anymore and mostly meant possession, like an After version of calling dibs.  
  
"No yeah, I get it. I can think of a few guys that fit that description. A couple of old military buddies."  
  
Brian spoke up, "You're military?"  
  
"Yeah, Marines. You?"  
  
"Army. 2nd Cav." They both nodded at each other in understanding.  
  
"We need to get back to the farm as soon as possible. How long will it take you to round these guys up?" Jim interrupted, tired and impatient.  
  
"By morning? I'm sure most will be ready to leave this shit hole."  
  
Jim could empathize with the sentiment. "Meet us out on Wilson road near the quarry in the morning if you and whoever else is interested."  
  
Brad reached out to shake Jim's hand, "Okay."  
  
"Okay," Jim replied and shook his hand in return.  
  
"One more thing, why would someone want to kill you?"  
  
Brad shrugged and tilted his head with a smile, "You never know."

________________

  
After buying dinner at the same turkey vendor, the four of them made their way to the same hostel they stayed in previously and paid for a room. They sat around the potbelly stove quietly eating, the stress of the day finally beginning to subside.  
  
"Man, this stuff is good. Pam and I had this the last time and I don't know what this guy puts on this but it is amazing." Jim pulled a big piece of turkey off and put in his mouth humming in appreciation.  
  
"As expensive as it is, maybe we should ask him if he wants to come too?" Brian supplied, around a full mouth of food.  
  
They all chuckled and Jim seriously considered it before Mike spoke, "So, do you think this guy is legit? I mean, do we trust him?"  
  
"I trust Henry and my initial impression is that they are much the same. It helps that he is ex-military too."  
  
"I still think it's a dangerous play bringing strange men back to our home," Mike added warily, "The people here are animals."  
  
"I'm not crazy about it either but if Mac is rounding up fighters, we have to at least be prepared. This is where Mac came from, actually, they were driven out of here, so that should tell you something. We post heavily armed guys at the gate and we let Mac know we have also gained some guns. We have to do something. If we are too intimidating of a target then they won't even come after us but if they think they can win, they will try and hit us again and again." Jim took a long drink from the water jug.  
  
"Pete you've been awfully quiet. Are you okay over there?" Brian asked with a smirk as he set down his plate.  
  
"This place….I just can't believe how bad it is. People are literally starving to death in the streets, being sold like chattel, it's crazy. It wasn't this bad when we left Scranton and I really haven't been anywhere but the little towns in the country since and I thought that was bad..."  
  
"We have it so good at the farm," Mike added.  
  
"Yes, we do," mumbled Brian. Each man sat in quiet introspection for a long time, weighing the gravity of fate.  
  
They all crashed in their respective beds soon after and Jim stared at the tin roof of the hostel room listening to the soft rain making a pleasant white noise, drowning out the sounds of the city around them. This was the farthest and longest he had been away from Pam since Before and he felt her absence like a dull ache in his bones. Being away from them felt wrong and painful anxiousness covered him like a wool blanket: itchy and uncomfortable. He wondered briefly if anyone would object to driving straight through and reaching home in the middle of the night. He laid there listening to the rain thinking of the last time he was in this hostel when his beautiful wife and her perfect body was naked on top of him and he drifted off for a few hours of sleep.

  
__________________

  
"Tell us about this place the guys are at, this Tent City." Larissa passed the wine bottle she had been offered, discreetly handing it off to Pam with a shy, knowing look.  
  
She began to pass it on as well to Meredith, but Larissa insisted, "Come on, a little wine won't hurt and it won't hit your milk after a couple of hours." Erin perked up, gesturing for the bottle with insistent fingers, at this information.  
  
"Come on little miss thing, I think you've earned it," Meredith chided. Angela sniffed her disapproval from the corner where she cross-stitched.  
  
Pam relented, sipping the smooth, berry-flavored alcohol that passed as wine these days. They had finished the chores, cleaned the children and put them to bed, even taking hot soup out to the men on guard at the front gate before collecting in the living room near the fire. Since their men weren't home, retreating to empty bedrooms wasn't appealing so they lingered downstairs longer than usual.  
  
"It's huge," Pam began, "It's like a massive slum or shantytown that smells bad. So many people and they are sad and hungry. They have everything for sell there, and I do mean everything." She flitted a look in Isabel's direction hoping this didn't stir any bad memories. "There are lots of scary people, drug gangs, and such."  
  
"Sounds interesting," Larissa mumbled.  
  
"We have it so good here," Isabel's quiet voice came from near the fire, as she stared off distantly at nothing but memories, "We are outnumbered out there. Traded and fought over like livestock and treated even worse. If you're lucky you get picked up by a man looking for a wife but if you aren't lucky you end up in one of those places like in Tent City." She looked back down into her glass and swirled the pink liquid, making a tiny vortex there.  
  
"My sister," her voice broke slightly, "was not as lucky as I am. She went to one of those places, at least the last I saw her." Tears had begun to pool in her eyes, one breaking free from the constraints of her lashes. "You don't usually survive, you either die of some disease or get pregnant and kicked out to the streets." She stared into the fire again.  
  
Everyone sat in silence, the sound of a log settling into embers and ash in the fireplace, and the occasional rattling of the window panes the only sound. Pam had seen most of this, the abject devastation beyond the gates, the other women had never known the extent and there was stunned disbelief among them. She moved over to Isabel and put her arm over her shoulder warmly, "I'm so sorry, Isabel."  
  
After several minutes Larissa inquired worriedly, "What about the guys? Are they in danger?"  
  
Pam looked at her, "Not any more than normal. Jim says they are going to be in and out as soon as they find this guy so hopefully there won't be any trouble." She sighed and looked down, "It's weird not having him here. We haven't been this far apart since Before." She left the words I miss him unsaid but everyone heard them all the same.  
  
Love and fear come in equal measure, she realized with clarity. One cannot exist without the other.

  
__________________

At dawn, the men made the long walk to where the Jeep was stashed that would eventually take them home, where everything of value left in the world was kept. The barren ridge line of trees bracketed them as they walked away from the grainy, bad-tasting air of the city. In front of them was a quarry and a large section of burnt-out woods, the blackened remains of trees reaching for the grey, cold sky; ashen scablands beyond the crest of the hill.  
  
"You think he will show up?" Brian moved over next to Jim as they walked down the dirty blacktop.  
  
"If a man's handshake means anything anymore, he will be," Jim said quietly.  
  
They walked silently for a long time, the weight noticeably lifting and their moods improving the closer they got to their destination.  
  
Brian spoke again, honesty spilling out of him, "I can't wait to see Isabel."  
  
Jim glanced over at him with a knowing little smile.  
  
"She's it, man. The one. There is no doubt." He said matter-of-factly. "And I know you think I've just pounced on the first available woman that's not Meredith."  
  
Jim laughed and shook his head, "I didn't say anything."  
  
"You didn't have to, I know you too well, asshole."  
  
Jim chuckled again.  
  
"She's... so great."  
  
Jim smiled as he shifted the rifle on his back slightly, "Have you told her that?"  
  
"Not yet. I don't want to scare her." He walked thoughtfully for a minute, "We've hardly even kissed. How pathetic am I?"  
  
Jim grinned ruefully, "Not any more pathetic than I was."  
  
"It was like this with Pam? When I came back from Bragg, you two were already together."  
  
Jim smirked in disbelief, "I can't believe I never told you this. When I met Pam, she was engaged to another man. _Engaged._ I was the textbook definition of pathetic. It just about killed me but in the end, it worked out."  
  
"It's hard to believe you two were never not together. You are like… two halves of the same whole or something." He glanced behind him down the road.  
  
When they rounded the blind corner leading to the quarry, they saw a large truck with several men gathered around it.  
  
"Shit." Jim scrambled, swinging his rifle around to the front before he seeing Brad step out of the driver's side door and he relaxed.  
  
"Is five enough?" Brad asked as Jim approached.  
  
"Five is good," and he shook his hand again with a smile.  
  
Brad went around listing names, introducing the men that had come along. They were all strong and relatively clean, only a couple were on the skinny side. Two men were brothers and but they all seemed to know each other. Jim assumed they were all former soldiers or marines.  
  
He raised his voice slightly to be heard by everyone, "Our place is about a day and a half of travel from here with all the roadblocks and detours. We have a bunkhouse we built and meals are going to be made by a couple of our people daily for you. Everybody works, so you will be given a task, most likely security but during the harvest, everybody helps, no exceptions. We can make quarterly trips back here to get any supplies or anything else you need." He looked at each one of them in the eye, his meaning unmistakable, "This isn't like Tent City. There are women and children there… _My_ wife and children live there and if I catch wind of anything… _anything_ … that would make them uncomfortable… _at all_ …you are gone. Is that clear?" They all nodded, matching his level of seriousness with the ease of understanding commands learned in their previous profession, a lifetime ago. "If you agree to that, then you are welcome. We need to get on the road. I don't want to be away from home any longer than we have to."  
  
The men started to pile back in the truck, and Jim turned to Brad, "Where did you get this big thing?"  
  
"I borrowed from a guy who owes me," he hoisted himself up in the driver's seat, "By the time he realizes I'm not bringing it back, we will be long gone." He smiled and slammed the door shut.

_______________

The following afternoon they rolled up to the front gate having made good time. The guards climbed down and opened the gate for Jim quickly, marveling at the new massive truck as they passed. When they pulled into the yard, Pam and the others came out of the house at the sound and Jim immediately moved towards her, as instinctive as leaves turning toward the sun.  
  
He took her face into his hands, kissing her gently, "I missed you," whispered against her lips.  
  
"I know it was only a few days but it felt like weeks," she hugged him tightly.  
  
He reluctantly pulled away, saving the rest he wanted to do to her for later, "How is everything? The kids? Any issues?"  
  
She shook her head and broke her gaze looking at the new residents for the first time, slipping her hand in Jim's.  
  
"Jesus, it's like Noah's Ark around here," Brad spoke humorously as he walked over. Pam looked around, realizing the reference at the way everyone had paired off so quickly.  
  
"Pam, this is Brad, Henry's nephew, and his men. Brad this is my wife, Pam."  
  
"Nice to meet you all," she glanced around, cordially making eye contact.  
  
"Are you guys hungry? We have a stew cooking."  
  
A smile spread slowly across Brad's face, "You have no idea. That sounds amazing, thanks."  
  
Henry's gruff voice broke through the crowd, "There he is! Claire's boy. Last time I saw you, you were barely up to my shoulder, now look at you!" and they embraced in unbridled joy, the way only long lost family can.  
  
"That is so not true, I was in college. So tell me about these assholes that are causing you problems."

  
__________________

Brian was full and exhausted. The stew had been delicious and he marveled at how much a group of hungry men could consume. Two huge pots were completely empty by the time the new men were finished and he absently wondered if they would have enough food to make the winter after all.

  
He had retreated to his room after saying goodnight to Isabel and escorting her safely to hers. She looked so damn good after not seeing her for what felt like an eternity, he never wanted to leave her, be without her, ever again.  
  
He made quick work of stripping off his dirty clothes, splashing water on his face from the basin, and throwing on a clean pair of pants. The fire was overly hot and instead of bothering removing a log, he decided to forgo a shirt. He had flopped down on the bed in an undignified manner and was nearly asleep when he heard a quiet knock on the door. Isabel stood at his door and he wasn't entirely sure he was awake.  
  
"Hey," she said in her soft, quiet voice as her eyes unapologetically drifted down to his bare chest.  
  
She was bathed in the warm lantern light of the one she carried, her body encased in an oversized shirt that nearly reached her knees. She was a drug to him in female form. Nearly as dangerous and twice as addictive.  
  
Shocked by her appearance so late, he immediately thought the worst, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine. Can I come in?"  
  
"Uh yeah, of course." He stepped back and let her by. She had never been in his room before and they had only been alone a handful of times. His heartbeat hard in his chest so loudly, he was sure she could hear it.  
  
"I, um, didn't want to be alone," she turned to face him.  
  
"Did something happen?" His body immediately tensed, ready to fight.  
  
"No, nothing happened. I just missed you and ... with all these new men here I just wanted to be near you."  
  
He inched towards her and lowered his voice an octave unintentionally, "They won't hurt you. They know I'd kill them if they touch you."  
  
She reached up to touch his face and his breath skipped, his senses heightened, and his body hummed.  
  
"I know." She let her hand drift down his bare chest, her fingertips delicately painting his skin in an electric path.  
  
"Isabel..." He tilted his head slightly in uncertainty, brown eyes dark. Love and want were very different things but it seemed in this rare occasion to be the same and he needed her to be clear.  
  
She moved up to him, closing their height difference with a lift on her toes, pressing her mouth tentatively to his. She smiled against them parting her lips and letting him inside. He didn't dare move too quickly, feeling like a butterfly had landed and he longed to keep it here, keep her here, just like this. He slowly brought his hands to her face, watching for any reservations before sliding them over her cool cheeks, feeling them warming. Her skin was soft and smooth, her lips yielding, and he would consume her greedily if given the chance.  
  
She pulled back slightly and he was afraid that it had been too much.  
  
"It's okay," she whispered into the skin of his neck.  
  
He swallowed again, his voice rough, putting a finger under her chin to bring her gaze to his, "Isabel, you don't have to do anything unless you want to."  
  
She wound her hands up and around his neck, wrapping him in her warm skin and intoxicating scent, her lips dancing delicately across his collarbone as she continued with more sureness, "I want to. The fact that you think that is exactly why I want to." Her words vibrated through his chest and he felt them sink into his marrow.  
  
She slid her hand down his arm, twisting her fingers into his as she led him in the direction of the bed and his future.

  
__________________

  
He opened the door to their room, expecting to find her moving about but instead he saw her form under the blankets and heard the deep, rhythmic breathing of sleep. He looked over the edge of the bassinet, Jack's hands having broken free from his blanket, resting on either side of his head in tiny, victorious little fists.  
  
By the time everything was put away and all the new people settled, it was late and there was no place he wanted to be more than in his bed, wrapped around her.  
  
She shifted in her sleep, rolling away from where he watched, exposing her smooth thigh and bare shoulder as the quilt tangled around her, looking very much like a curly-haired Greek goddess. She had preemptively undressed in anticipation and promptly fell asleep.  
  
Jim was never one to let an opportunity go to waste.  
  
He quickly undressed, sitting down behind her, trailing a finger down her bare back slowly. In the nights beyond darkness and the days sometimes grayer than the ones that came before it, she warmed him like the sun, flowing over him like the tides; she was his world entirely.  
  
"Beautiful." He whispered to no one and the universe, all the same.  
  
He traced his hand down her hip as he moved closer, sliding in behind her, wrapping his arms and legs around hers so that his body surrounded hers in every way. His lips met her shoulder and she melted back into him. He nuzzled gently behind her ear before beginning his journey, first to her neck, then to her earlobe. She sighed contented, pressing back against his pelvis instinctively and he hummed his approval.  
  
He could feel her skin warming under his touch as she slowly gained awareness and she rolled towards him in his arms, her eyes opening slowly with a lazy smile.  
  
"Welcome home," she murmured sleepily, the orange light of the dying fire competing with muted moonlight on her skin, "I missed you."  
  
He brought his lips to her ear softly, "Show me how much."


	16. Nowhere Near

There was a stillness, a quiet so deep they could hear their own hearts. Several inches of snow had covered the ground and draped the earth around them in silence once again. The new bunkhouse was serving as a meeting hall once more as the occupants of the Farm gathered and took stock of what had been stolen. Beans. A wool blanket. Two handguns.   
  
Pam’s pendant.   
  
He didn’t have much to spend back then, after rent and the new car he just had to have after his promotion, there wasn’t much left of his sales commissions. It wasn’t fancy, a holiday special at Zales but he had wanted to give her something, anything, to show her she was everything, the horizon to his sky. It was gone now, and while it was rather insignificant compared to surviving, the look on her face when she realized it had been taken, tore at him.   
  
There were two people missing, a brother and sister, barely-out-of-high-school age, that had mostly kept to themselves. It was deduced that they were the likely suspects, finally piecing together what had been disappearing over several months, causing them to flee to avoid being discovered. A revelation that put people on edge, a hint of suspicion in the way they looked at each other. Community and trust were hard fought for but nonetheless fragile, like branches that would snap if turned just so.   
  
“Dwight’s ring. _Those people_ took Dwight’s ring, Jim.” Angela’s high and pinched voice broke through the quiet murmur of the crowd as her small frame pressed past them.   
  
He looked at Brian in unspoken understanding, the line crossed in taking something irreplaceable that had belonged to his lost friend, unacceptable.   
  
“We’ll go track them down. They can’t have gotten too far. Assuming it’s the two people we think it is, they will be easy to track.” With a swing of the rifle to his back and a smaller one on his side, he moved towards the door.  
  
“I know that look on your face.”  
  
“Then you know what I’m going say.” She slid into his embrace with practiced ease.  
  
“‘Don’t get hurt again, or I’ll shoot you myself?’”  
  
“That goes without saying.” Her nose was pink with chill, and the tips of her ears nipped red from the cold air, but her body felt warm against his.   
  
He felt irrationally responsible, “I’m sorry about your pendant.”   
  
She shifted in his arms slightly, and he could feel her breath in the small space where is coat had come unzipped. “It’s not important, I mean, it is, but not worth you going out there.”   
  
“We won’t be long, just checking a couple of these abandoned places. We’ll be back by supper.”   
  
“You know I hate when you say things like that.” The breath of his chuckle stirred her hair. “Nothing is ever easy and simple.”  
  
He looked over her head just in time to catch a glimpse of Brian and Isabel embracing rather intensely and he looked down at her with wide-eyed amusement in perfectly matched expressions as she had also caught on to the scene beside them.   
  
He leaned down with a whisper, “Can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”   
  
“Shhh.” She hushed him but smiled and nodded, pressing her forehead against his shoulder, pretending not to notice their somewhat public declaration as people still milled about.  
  
As they walked toward the truck, and he looked at Brian pointedly, waiting for some sort of recognition, before finally breaking the silence.  
  
“Is there something you want to tell me?”   
  
With a shake of his head and a poorly hidden smirk, Brian replied simply, “Shut up.”   
  
  
  
  
There were several old, abandoned homes, sunken and dreary, that dotted Route 9, a winding two-lane, that eventually led to the interstate. It was the most direct road out of the area, which made it a likely path for two kids quickly hoping to head to one of the larger trading centers of the east. The grudging dull light that passed for day, hung heavy over the road but the weather favored them somewhat; bitter cold but the snow had stopped falling.   
  
They parked the old truck at a distance, walking the remainder of the way on foot, stopping ever so often to listen. In the deafening silence of After, people often gave their location up from sound alone but all they heard was the never-ending winter wind.   
  
The third house they came upon sat back from the road, the once manicured driveway now lined with the shells of decaying apple trees. The entire structure groaned with the sharp push of the wind and the whisper of unease raised the hairs on the back of Jim’s neck.  
  
They cautiously looked in the grimy, fogged windows for any signs of life before pushing in the warped front door. The sharp smell of gunpowder and iron hit them instantly before walking further into the open living room to find who they sought, laying face down on the filthy rug in the center of the room.   
  
Jim shook his head with a look to the ceiling and a grievous sigh, “He was just a kid. A _very stupid_ kid, but still a kid.”   
  
Brian navigated carefully around the pooled blood soaking the rug to get a better look at the deadly injury. “He has nothing on him and where is she?”  
  
“That’s a very good question.” The twang of the familiar country lilt caused them both to startle turning sharply to face Johnny standing in the doorway.   
  
“Don’t worry, she’s 'round here somewhere and they both had some mighty interesting things to tell us before…well,” He motioned flippantly at the body. 

  
__________________  
  
  
  
“I take very meticulous notes. I am never wrong.” Angela’s sharp and pinched voice carried down the hall as Pam followed the sound to its origin. She found it, articulating a very tense standoff between her and Jeff.   
  
“What’s going on?” Pam interjected and several sets of worried eyes cast their gaze in her direction.   
  
“ _Farmer Jeff_ seems to think I have somehow made a mistake in tracking the walkies.”  
  
After an exasperated glance at Angela, Jeff turned to Pam fully, ”One of the walkies is gone that shouldn’t be. It was the one assigned originally to Toby. He must have taken it with him. I was simply making sure it was not someone else’s before we start jumping to conclusions.” He finished his explanation with a wave of his arm in Angela's direction.  
  
“I told you, I don’t—“  
  
“Wait, that means Mac has it.” Pam vocalizing what everyone silently feared, strands of anxiety beginning to creep up her body.   
  
Pete stepped forward calmly, “Pam, we don’t know that. For all we know it’s still in the bottom of the backpack he was carrying and is long forgotten in some pit somewhere.”  
  
She shivered slightly at the visual his words evoked.  
  
“Mac may be evil, but he is _not_ stupid. There is no way he didn’t go through everything Toby had on him.” She began to pace slightly, biting at her thumbnail as her nerves began to get the better of her.   
  
“Damn you, Toby.” She cursed under her breath.   
  
“Pete’s right. We have no idea what he has heard if he’s heard anything at all.” Jeff added. “Toby has been gone for a while and this is the first time we have even noticed.”  
  
“What do you mean? Do you mean Jim doesn’t know?” Pam looked at the men horrified.  
  
“No, I don’t see how he would,” Jeff said quietly.  
  
A realization coalesced into a cold spiral that ran down her backbone and coiled deep in her belly, “Did Jim tell the security guys where they were going today over the walkie?”  
  
Pete followed her train of thought and just nodded in the affirmative, solemnly.   
  
“Oh my God, they could be waiting for them.”   
  
“He didn’t say specifics, just that they were going to check the abandoned houses on Route 9.” Pete held up his own walkie for emphasis.  
  
“That’s more than enough information. We have to warn them.”   
  
“Pam, there’s no reason to send anyone out there on a wild goose chase. I’m sorry, but we are just going to have to wait.”  
  
Pete nodded slightly in agreement at Jeff’s words and she felt maddening frustration reach a boiling point.  
  
“This is bullshit. Jim would be the first to offer if it was you out there and you know it.”  
  
“We don’t…” Pam was already halfway down the hall before Jeff could finish his sentence.   
  
  
  
  
She threw open the door to her room before remembering that Jack was still asleep in his bed, with her mind was panicked and spinning. She had an intense gut feeling that she had to tell him somehow and it was powerful and unrelenting, overriding any sense of logic that put up an argument. She pulled on her hiking shoes and grabbed her coat. She would have to sneak away, they would never let her leave. She was positive Jim had some sort of standing order to keep her safe at the Farm at all times, and the guys here would never be willing to piss off Jim when it came to that.  
  
She walked down the hall to the back door and hung her coat there so as not to raise suspicion and went to find Larissa. She knocked on her bedroom door and Mike answered.  
  
“Hey Mike, can I speak to Larissa for a minute? Oh, I’m sorry… Am I interrupting anything?” Her voice shaking slightly betraying her casual tone.   
  
“No, you’re fine. Is anything wrong?”  
  
Pam bit the inside of her cheek in frustration. She was terrible at hiding her emotions and she knew she had worry written all over her when Larrisa appeared at his side.  
  
“What’s wrong?” She said without greeting.   
  
“Nothing, I just have a quick question. A…uh..female problem,” Pam lied, flushed and anxious, hoping she could sell embarrassed.  
  
“Oh okay, come in.”  
  
“I’ll go help downstairs.” Mike excused himself, slipping past her into the hallway.  
  
The moment she closed the door, Pam turned to her, “I lied, I don’t have a female problem, I need your help.”  
  
“What?” She had the same confused expression Jim sometimes wore and it made everything worse.  
  
“Jim might be in trouble. Mac has one of our walkies and might know exactly where Jim and Brian are going and I have to warn him. You know they won’t let me leave, you know that.” she tilted her head knowingly at Larissa, they both knew Jim well, “I need you to watch the children for me…but don’t tell anyone where I’m going. Can you do that?”  
  
“Wait.” She shook her head with a blink, “Why don’t they send one of the guys to tell him? Why does it have to be you?”  
  
“Jeff and Pete aren’t convinced it’s worth the risk on a maybe but I know, Larissa. _I know_ something bad is coming and they are wasting time not listening to me. Jim might already be…” she couldn’t finish her thought, “and I think it might be my fault. It was Toby’s and he was mad at Jim because of me. That little blue car is hidden at the edge of the fence line. I’m going to take that.”   
  
It all came out in a rush and Larrissa just stared at her like she had finally lost it.   
  
“Pam, this just seems…”  
  
“I’m going and you can’t stop me,” she said resolutely, “Will you watch our children or not?”  
  
“Yes, of course, I will. Jim is going to kill me though.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead in worry in a very Halpert way.   
  
“Okay, Jack is still asleep in our room and he just went down so it will be a while.” She raised her hand to her chest instinctively. “Cece and Phil are in the game room,” she grabbed Larrisa’s hand and gave it a squeeze, “Thank you.”  
  
She rounded the corner, her plan of action set firmly in her mind when Isabel placed herself directly in her path.   
  
“I know where you are going and I want to go with you.”  
  
“You were listening?" The air left her lungs in a rush, and she steadied herself before continuing, “I just need to warn them, there is no reason for both of us to risk going out there.”   
  
Isabel didn’t give an inch, her usual soft brown eyes were hard with worried determination. “Brian is out there too. Let me go and you stay. You have a baby.”  
  
“No way. You don’t know the area as I do and Larissa is watching the kids.”  
  
Isabel rocked back on her heels with a small sway of her head, “This is stupid, Pam. There are a half a dozen guys out there that would be more than willing.”  
  
“I know,” she shook her head in frustration at herself and her circumstances, “I know it is but I can’t just sit here and no one seems to think it is worth it. The new guys won’t know where this is and Jeff and Pete...God, they have pissed me off. Sometimes bad decisions are the only decisions to make, Isabel.”   
  
They stared at each other at an impasse for several long seconds before Isabel resignedly stepped aside to let her pass.   
  
“If you aren’t back in an hour, I’m sounding the alarm.”  
  
  
______________  
  
  
  
There was the large thump of a pothole that felt like the bottom had fallen out of the rusted old Chevy truck bed they rode in and it was jarring enough to knock Jim back into consciousness, everything flooding back with a rush.   
  
“Shit, I thought I was having a bad dream.”   
  
As his brain gained traction on his circumstances, Jim cursed at himself at his stupidity and absolutely terrible luck. He should have known Mac’s guys would be crawling in this area but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew exactly where to look and what they would find. And those kids. Those _stupid kids_ that had unwittingly been in the wrong place at the wrong time.   
  
He blinked and realized quickly that only one side was cooperating as his eye was swelling. An exploratory swipe of his tongue tasted blood, the source any number of painful places around in and around his mouth. His side ached and it was hard to breathe, a cracked or broken rib he concluded quickly as he took inventory of his condition. Mac’s men had enjoyed beating the shit out of them a little too much.   
  
“No dream, just an all-around fucked up day.” Brian’s utterance came broken and emotionless from next to him.   
  
Jim turned to him, his voice barely reaching him over the roar of the wind in the back of the pickup, “You okay?”  
  
“Oh yeah, this is fun.” He replied sarcastically and tried to adjust his arms in their restraints behind his back.   
  
“The girl. Where is she?” Jim pulled again at the ropes tied at his wrists, feeling the burn of them.  
  
“I didn’t see her. Who knows with these assholes. I don’t want to even begin to guess.”  
  
The truck bed suddenly became partially lit as they approached the yard of Roger’s farmhouse with its lanterns and torches. They pulled Jim and Brian roughly out of the bed of the truck and shoved them to the ground in front of the steps. Mac came onto the porch and looked down at them, smiling maliciously.   
  
“Mr. Halpert,” he drew out his name with a bit of showiness, “Always a pleasure. You are like an unlucky penny, always showing up. Why is it my boys found you poking around near my property? You wouldn’t happen to be looking for someone would you?”  
  
“Nope, we were just out taking a walk,” Jim replied dryly, shifting in his ropes.   
  
“I very much doubt that. I heard you are having people trying to run away over there. We found them of course, and they were loaded down with all sorts of interesting things. Trouble in paradise?”  
  
“Those things were stolen.”   
  
Mac chuckled faintly, “I thought we had an understanding. What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is also mine.” Muted laughter rolled through the crowd around them.  
  
“Not even close.” Jim shook his head.   
  
“I heard several intriguing pieces of information from our unfortunate friends. Like for one, you went all the way to Tent City to get some more muscle. What’s wrong Halpert? Something making you antsy over there?” Mac shifted his weight, leaning casually against the railing.   
  
“There are rumors the neighborhood is going downhill. You can’t be too careful.” He looked around him gauging the group, finding them hopelessly outnumbered.  
  
Mac smiled at this, appreciating the strategy if nothing else.   
  
“Also, and I find this rather disappointing, they say you mentioned trying to take the mine from me in the spring. Why would you do that when we have such a nice arrangement?” The sarcasm dripped saccharine-sweet from his words.  
  
“You have no intention of honoring that. You said so yourself, nothing stands in the way of your next meal.”   
  
Jim’s insight caused him to pause. Jim noticed, with some pleasure, that Mac never liked his intentions revealed and took every opportunity to rattle him in that way.   
  
“Well, what am I going to do with you? If I just shoot you, which is what I really want to do, then I might get all these farmers around here angry that I killed their beloved leader and that would get messy and I hate messy,” he stepped down the stairs to stand in front of them, “but you have turned out to be a huge pain in the ass.”  
  
“Mac!” A voice came loudly from behind them and Mac looked up as the group peeled away to allow whoever it was through.  
  
“Look what I just found out on the road.” The voice finished with palpable exhilaration.   
  
There was excited energy that rolled through the crowd of men and when Jim turned to see what it was, his entire life fell with a roaring crash and landed spectacularly in the pounded dirt in front of him.   
  
Brian’s murmured, “Oh no.” sounded a hundred miles away.   
  
She was there across the yard, her oversized coat making her seem even smaller amongst the huge men surrounding her; her nervous breath like panes against the cold night sky.   
  
“Well, this evening just got very interesting.” Mac walked over to her arrogantly, with the look of a man just given a great hand at poker.   
  
Jim raised his voice to yell, his mouth was so dry that he almost couldn’t speak at once.   
  
“Look, I’m the one you want. Keep me and let her go.” He didn’t dare make eye contact with her, fear of losing the tenuous grip on his sanity.  
  
Mac stepped close to her, “Based on Halpert’s reaction over there, you must be the missus.”  
  
He towered over her, reaching to touch her hair, bringing it up to his nose, “I’ve heard a lot about you. You probably don’t remember me, but we met before in that barn right over there, the night when your husband murdered my brother. Did he tell you he did that?”   
  
Pam was as still as stone, her eyes full of scorn and contempt, and he had the fleeting, insane thought that he was proud of her.   
  
“Go to hell.”  
  
A smile worked its way across his face under Mac's ruddy-yellow beard before his eyes narrowed and became dark. “Ohh, feisty.”  
  
“Take me,” Jim yelled louder, desperation taking over now, “I’m your problem, not her. I’ll do whatever you need. I can take you to our guns. Kill me. Just let her go home.” He tried to stand but big meaty arms shoved him back down, knocking the wind out of him.  
  
Mac turned to him calmly, “I’m afraid you aren’t my type, Halpert.”   
  
There was a chorus of nauseating chuckles all around him, every molecule in his body was panicked and yearning to get to her, to _do something._  
  
With an almost disinterested expression, he motioned to someone behind him and the last thing Jim felt was the butt of a rifle cracking hard against the back of his head and the red-black pain emanating from it as everything faded into darkness.  
  
Mac moved back towards the house, striding smoothly up the wide staircase of the porch. He paused after yanking the old screen door open, looking over his shoulder at the crowd gathered in the yard.   
  
“Bring me the wife.” 


	17. Everything is Eclipsed By the Shape of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the chapter your parents warned you about or, at the very least, the warning tags did. There are some rough topics covered here: attempted sexual assault, violence and death. So... here be dragons.

The human body is made up of more than blood, as Pam thought back to her 7th-grade anatomy lesson. _Mrs. Lawson, room 205._ The body is made of bones and skin; muscle and sinew. _She sat next to a girl with a purple Trapper Keeper and she had a blue one, so they traded._ Blood was life-giving, but tying all those elements together in a cohesive being was skin. _She always liked purple._ Skin was so fragile, so delicate. So easily pierced with a blade. _What was her name?_ There is so much blood. It was like a dream and the filmy gauze of it kept her from truly being there and her thoughts were scattered like marbles on pavement.  
  
She stood there, mostly naked covered in his blood, frozen as if some invisible thread held her to the worn floorboards. Watching the life drain from his body and soak the bed in a giant bloom of scarlet, had transfixed her. Her knife gripped in one hand, her other coming up to shakily wipe the dripping tears from her chin. Voices from downstairs jolted her back and she jumped at the sound. She pulled at her clothes, a tangled mess of denim and torn cotton, mindlessly returning them to their original location. The two pieces of jewelry, gilded and argent, precipitately placed on the dresser, called back her resolve.   
  
She trembled as the cold metals, along with their symbolism, fell into her palm and her fingers folded around them. She was terrified of what lay beyond that door, but there were things stronger than fear. If Jim was still alive, she had to find him.  
  
Her senses felt electric now; the adrenalin of trauma heightening everything. She rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and looked into the main living area. There were several men sitting around a card table talking and drinking loudly and even though they were feet from her, they felt abstract and distant, her mind focused on the door at the end of the hall that was freedom.  
  
“…Two pairs. I win asshole….”  
  
“….Mac going to be done? ….get in there.”  
  
“Fuck you….I get her next.”  
  
She waited flat against the wall, the ancient chair rail digging into her back and the smell of musty, stale air filling her nose when one man reached across the table to swing at the other. There was crashing glass and fists hitting faces and she used the distraction to slip down the hallway and out the back door.  
  
She was so cold and when her feet hit the cool grass outside she shivered. She moved forward heedlessly towards the next building, no certain direction, instead being pulled by some unseen force hoping she would find some sign of him. When she turned the corner of the derelict garage, she hit something solid but warm. _His_ voice filled her ears, and even though she instinctively knew, her body refused to relent.  
  
Blackness pulled at the edges of her vision as her knees buckled and she hit the ground.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
He didn’t know how long he’d been out but a million thoughts ran through his mind at once, abject fear and repulsion warring each other. His entire body throbbed with something slow and inexorable, pulsing through him hot and violent. He shifted, pain shooting up his side at the slight movement from his cracked rib. He felt the blood beginning to pool under his hands, warm and sticky under his fingers, his wrists destroyed by all his pulling and twisting. He hazard a glance at Brian who sat with his head down, the entire left side of his face a swollen, bloody mess. He briefly wondered if his looked the same but then the human garbage in front of him spoke.  
  
“You know what’s happening right now, don’t you?” The large man pushed off the wall and stepped toward them. Jim stared ahead, blood pounding in his ears, fury pulsing through him, exposed and ready to burst.  
  
“Oh yeah, you know.” He laughed and made a crude gesture with his hips and the bile rose in Jim’s throat and burned.  
  
He locked eyes with him, the smell of rage a palpable miasma around him.“I’m going to fucking kill you,” came spilling out of him without any forethought.  
  
“I don’t think so,” the man leaned in closer, his foul breath suffocating, “but I’ll think about that when it’s my turn with her later.” He gave a malefic laugh, and Jim pulled at the ropes so hard he was sure it was going to snap his bones.  
  
The large man turned in the direction of Brian, hoping for a reaction, “In fact, I heard there is a lot of fun at that farm of yours. It will be quite a party sampling all that when we get there.”  
  
Brian’s head slowly lifted, the first sign he had given that he was still conscious, his voice low and deadly, “The hell you are. You aren’t fucking getting near them.”  
  
In that instant, he heard the soft ping and wiz of a silenced bullet and with a sickening thud, the man’s body jerked backward as the bullet pierced his flesh. Another shot made him lurch again and then the loud whisper of a familiar voice.  
  
“Jim! Brian!”  
  
Before Jim could locate the source, Pete’s hands were quickly working the bloody ropes from his wrists as Brad recovered the weapon from the dead man.  
  
“Oh man, it is good to see you two.” Brian gasped as he freed himself with Pete’s knife.  
  
Jim stood and looked down emotionless at the man’s body bleeding out on the floor and then turned to Brad cold and venomous, “Give me a gun.”  
  
Pete pulled one from behind him and laid it in Jim’s hand and he stepped away swiftly toward the house.  
  
“Jim! We got to go, man!” Brad whispered loudly before turning to Brian, “Where the hell is he going?”  
  
“They have Pam,” Brian answered hollowly, following after him.  
  
“Oh shit. Jim, we had no idea she left…” Pete explained helplessly seeing that Jim was already long gone.  
  
Jim moved around the corner of the back of the house slowly glancing around before advancing when he slammed directly into a body about a foot shorter.  
  
“Jesus! Pam, oh my God!” She collapsed into him heavy and boneless and he buffered her fall until he was down on his knees.  
  
She was pale and trembling with such veracity that the curls around her face almost bounced against her ghost-like skin. His hands skimmed over her looking for signs of injury but only finding blood everywhere; the knife he had given her still clutched in her hand.  
  
“You’re alive.” She choked out and he met her eyes but she was looking through him.   
  
“Jim, we have got to move,” Brian said nervously as he, Brad, and Pete gave cover from every direction, their weapons drawn.  
  
“Pam, baby, give me the knife.” He reached slowly and cautiously to take it out of her hand, “It’s me now, just let go of it, I’m here.” He pulled harder as her grip was unrelenting. She finally processed his words, nodded numbly, and loosened her hand. He slid the red-coated and sticky the knife in his belt and swept her up into his arms.  
  
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”  
  
  
  
  
The beat-up nineties era Suburban roared down the debris scattered two-lane road with feverish intent. He still had her, refusing to let her go, and she was still trembling, staring off into the night vacantly and he realized she must be in shock. He pulled his coat off and wrapped it around her, noticing she was also missing her shoes, her bare feet resting on the fake leather bench, her clothing in a distressing state of disarray.  
  
She held out her left hand, each finger trembling as it unfolded, revealing her pendant and Dwight’s ring.  
  
“He had them.”  
  
He stared at the two pieces of jewelry, rigid, as he placed the sequence of events that led to them being here in her hand.  
  
“I think I killed him.” She said so softly, Jim could barely make out the words, “When he was...on me...I stabbed him in the back.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry...” His voice broke and he pulled her even tighter to him, the pain of her suffering like a vice grip on his chest competed strongly with the overwhelming need to kill something, or at the very least, cause it considerable pain.  
  
She finally met his eyes like she was just now seeing him, huge and dark, burning. Suddenly the flood gate opened and her whole body shook with her hard, gut-wrenching sobs, she clutched to the front of his shirt like it was the only thing holding her to the planet. He pressed his lips to her hair in silent petition, desperate to take it all from her.   
  
Pete looked over at them sadly, “Jim, we didn’t know if he had Toby’s walkie. She must have left to try to tell you. We had no idea until Isabel told us,” he mumbled as he slid his hand over his face.  
  
Pieces of information fell into order, like leaves fluttering to the ground. Toby’s walkie. The fact that they knew where to find them. Pam being out alone looking for him. The anger turned to energy and pulsed through him, intense and furious, like the current in a live wire, making his vision clear.  
  
“Does he know we know he has a walkie?”  
  
Brian’s rough voice came from the dark recesses of the truck, “I doubt it.”  
  
“Brad, radio back to the farm. Make it sound like we are fleeing to town.” He pressed his lips to Pam’s temple as she released a shuddering breath, the plan forming fully in his mind.  
  
“We are going to set a trap for these sons of bitches. This ends tonight.”  
  
  
  
  
_________________  
  
  
  
  
Pam was thankful for the chaos and there was nervous energy rippling through the place in preparation. The yard looked like a war zone. Every working truck had been pulled along the outer wall and people were loading guns and ammunition on all the trucks’ surfaces creating a formidable protection force against any attack.  
  
She allowed Jim to completely take over any decisions and deflect any questions, relaxing against him fully as he carried her up to their room, He set her on the bed and locked the door behind them, his entire posture wracked with uncertainty. She looked up at him with exhaustion and defeat, her eyes red and swollen.  
  
“Do you want to get out of those clothes?” His voice was cautious as if he was approaching a frightened bird and she could see his eyes, dark and soft in the dim lantern light, the corners tight with pain.  
  
He silently gathered some clothes and brought them over to her, setting them in her lap.  
  
She held out her hand to examine it, the stained red skin trembling. “Why can’t I stop shaking, Jim?”  
  
“I don’t know.” He exhaled the words, each syllable taut with grief.  
  
She fingered the frayed tag of the teeshirt he had given her uncertainly before shrugging off his coat from her shoulders.  
  
“Do you want me to leave?” He asked softly and her eyes shot up to him with panic.  
  
“No, don’t go.” She shook her head and tears threatened once more. She was precariously adrift, reaching blindly for the anchor of him.  
  
He dropped immediately to sit down next to her, “I won’t go, I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to be…”  
  
She put her hand on his face and he closed his eyes and leaned into it. The cold heavy feeling in the pit of her began to thaw, unwinding some of the frozen threads of fear inside her. She gently touched the swollen bruise that had formed around his eye and the gash on his cheek and he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.  
  
“I love you,” she said simply, the complexity and depth of what she felt boiled down to those three words.  
  
“God, Pam…” The words coming out in a relieved sigh, still speaking into her palm, holding it to him, with his eyes closed.  
  
Her gaze moved over him, taking inventory for the first time how battered he was, “What did they do to you?”  
  
“Not important.” He brushed her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, “nothing that won’t heal.” Fragile silence passing between them with the knowledge that some scars are invisible and never do.  
  
She wordlessly changed her clothes into the ones Jim had given her and sat back down. He brought over the basin and a clean towel and gently cleaned the blood off her arms and her waist. She watched him silently, words suddenly paltry and unnecessary.   
  
“Do you want, uh, Larissa to help you or whatever? I can go get her.” He spoke quietly, pain laced in every word.  
  
Pam tilted her head curiously at his troubled anxiety, unsure what he meant, then it dawned on her what he thought.  
  
“He didn’t get that far, Jim,” she said softly, “He just...,” she looked down at her hands and swallowed hard the lump that threatened to choke her, “He was …about to… when I stabbed him but he…didn’t.”  
  
He sighed heavily and leaned forward and put his head in his hands for a long minute. He was still but seemed to vibrate with something unyielding and terrifying. She felt it roll off him in waves.  
  
“I can tell you what happened…if you want to know.” She instantly felt guilty sorrow wash over her as he silently nodded. She sensed his hesitation, to know something was one thing, and to be told the details, another.  
  
“He offered me a drink,” she began sardonically and he slowly blinked and shook his head in disbelief.  
  
“He told me he hated you and that if he fucked me he could make you pay for killing his brother. He wanted to know what makes me so special that he died.” With that, Jim stood and started pacing and rubbing the back of his neck. She could see the anger course through him so hot and violent and so thoroughly, she felt as though he might come apart if he didn’t move.   
  
“I knew it was my chance. I still had my knife, they never took it. They never even checked.” She looked up at him again and the expression he wore was unreadable. She knew every nuance of him, every mask he wore, but he had dropped them all now; the regret, the anger, and the fear were all visible, etched clearly in the desperate lines of his face.  
  
“He told me to take off my shirt and when I didn’t want to, he told me he was going to go slit your throat if I didn’t.” Her tears silently fell again and she briefly marveled that she had any left, “I’m sorry, I had to do it. I just didn’t want him to hurt you.”  
  
He stopped his pacing and looked at her horrified, “Don’t you dare think that any of this is even remotely your fault, Pam. Every bit of this is that fucking bastard’s fault.” The words seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal as explosive fury rocked him.  
  
She swayed back slightly having never heard him like that before. She sat shocked and numb from the violence of it, her tears making the light from the fire blur in her vision.  
  
He sat back down next to her and pulled her hand into his, kissing her knuckles, “I’m sorry, I’m just angry, not at you though.”  
  
She relaxed again, allowing her body to drift towards his in the natural way it always did when he was close and she saw the tension in his own shoulders let go slightly.  
  
She nodded quickly and continued wanting to get it all out as fast as possible, “He was rubbing himself so I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see that or him. I think it made him angry because he threw me on the bed hard and grabbed my face to force me to look at him. I knew I had to do something then before he found the knife on me so I just reached down grabbed it and started stabbing.” She shook her head again, looking down at their tangled fingers in her lap, “I don’t know how many times I did it, I just did it until he stopped moving. I pushed him off of me and went to find you.”  
  
She was suddenly exhausted. Having now expelled the memory, he shared the burden of it and the missing weight left her tremendously tired.  
  
He was silent so she chanced a look at him. He was leaning forward on his knees and had his chin resting on his hand, staring straight ahead, tears had filled his eyes and one had left a trail down his cheek. She reached up and brushed the hair off his forehead and he turned and looked at her with sorrowful eyes, the entire scope of human emotion behind them.  
  
“Pam, I am so sorry. None of that should have ever happened.”  
  
She rested her head on his shoulder wearily, “Don’t say sorry. I was the one who went out there and got caught.”  
  
His eyes drifted down to the floor in front of them. “I had so many chances to kill him and I didn’t take them. You were the brave one.”   
  
He shook his head and she knew he wouldn’t let it go. They were both very seasoned at self-deprecating blame. She turned toward him fully, leaning forward and kissing his temple, then his brow slowly, careful to avoid the injuries that covered him. He closed his eyes, allowing her to love him and she moved her lips to his eyelids and then his mouth before resting their foreheads together.  
  
“We’re okay.” She whispered to him. The empty space inside her was starting to replace the swirls of fear with love again, a fraction at a time, which was equally as frightening.  
  
“That’s all that matters.” He whispered back.  
  
  
  
  
___________  
  
  
  
  
Jim left long enough to fetch fresh water for the basin and Jack. With the lull in activity, he took the opportunity to clean himself up, haphazardly wrapping bandages around his wrists for the time being. He felt emotionally drained like he had run a marathon in the middle of a nightmare that was only half over.  
  
“You need to let Larissa or Mike look at those, they are very deep,” Pam said with concern as she shifted a sleeping Jack from one shoulder to the other.  
  
“I will. They are busy helping Brian right now.” He glanced at his reflection in the oval-shaped mirror and grimaced at the mottled discoloration on his face and as he lifted his shirt to examine, the entirety of the left side of his torso.  
  
Brad appeared in the doorway, pushing open the cracked door apologetically, “Jim, everything is ready to go.”  
  
Cece and Phil ran in under Brad’s arm, “Mom! We were looking for you.”  
  
Phil melted into her side the way only a child does.  
  
“Yeah, Aunt Larrisa said you went somewhere but nobody would tell us anything and everyone is acting weird,” Cece added incredulously.  
  
“Even Ms. Angela wouldn’t tell us, and she always tells us,” Phil continued, his voice muffled from Pam’s sweater.  
  
Pam looked over Cece’s head and met Jim’s eyes. “All that matters is that I’m home now, okay?”   
  
“Jim,” Brad said quietly again and Jim looked at him and nodded.  
  
“I have to go. Please, _please_ stay here…all of you,” he pleaded. Pam nodded resignedly and with one last look, he left his family in the safety of their room.  
  
As Jim walked down the main hallway, he could feel all the eyes on him. Someone handed him a rifle before he made it past the front door and he checked the clip to see if it was full as he walked. He was more ready than ever for this to be over and tonight it was going to end.  
  
He was suddenly restless again, the bone-melting exhaustion he had previously held dissipated completely as Brian appeared in front of him, cleaned up and bandaged.  
  
“They took the bait.”


	18. To Build a Home

It was once said that time was a universal invariant.  
  
Jim found out later in high school physics that wasn’t actually the case, but the quote had stuck with him. Time certainly felt unalterable, always marching forward despite man’s efforts to slow or control it.  
  
They sat in the dark, the wind low and whistling through the aging warped wood, the only movement the faint plume of their breath. He spun his ring on his finger, reminding him of why, the circle of silver not only a symbol of endlessness but of time and of promises and the four reasons he was still breathing.  
  
“We moved the trucks into place and they checked them,” Brian had said, as their long legs made lengthy strides toward the already running old pickup. “Pete and Brad’s guys are already there. Our scout radioed that ‘The barn is empty’ which is the signal that means it looks like they are all coming, or damn near all of them, and no sign of Mac.”  
  
They had both slid into the bench seat, barely closing the aging doors before Jim threw the old truck into gear. After several minutes Brian looked over at him, his voice low and hesitating, “How’s Pam?”  
  
Jim had exhaled long and deep, staring into the hollow blackness beyond the headlights, “She’ll be okay.”  
  
Brian nodded, his thoughts passing like the blurring trees, “And you?”  
  
“I will be soon.”  
  
He looked over at Brian now, mirroring his own position, sitting with his back against the faded wallpapered wall, under a busted out window. They all sat in the silence, each with their own reasoning. Some were there out of obligation or fear, others out of a need for a reckoning, all of them facing their own absolution. Time seemed to slow as they waited for their fate, as unhurried as the wind that now wound around them, suspended in compromise.  
  
“Headlights,” an unattached voice whispered in the silence, and there was an immediate tension that rolled through the room.  
  
Brian glanced over the edge of the windowsill, his eyes scanning the broken, unlit street, “Four vehicles, 15 to 20 guys,” he reported before ducking back down and loading his weapon.  
  
Jim heard the sounds of the car tires rolling to a stop, engines quitting, and doors slamming. With a quick glance at Brian, and a deep, resolute breath, he stood.  
  
At the signal of Jim appearing on the weathered covered porch of the old post office, torches began lighting like flickering starlight from buildings all along the main street. Johnny turned from where he stood to face him, his face a mix of fear and respect evident in the yellow light.  
  
“Well, shit. I take it ya’ll figured out we were listenin’”  
  
Jim’s grip tightened on his weapon unconsciously, needing to hear confirmation, “Where’s Mac?”  
  
Johnny scoffed before defiantly spitting on the ground in front of him, “Like you don’t know. Your bitch killed him and ran off.”  
  
Jim tilted his head warningly, his finger flexing on the trigger. Several guns cocked and Johnny put his hand halfway up in reply, his other resting on his holstered weapon.  
  
The sound of two tractor-trailer engines roaring to life filled the air and the men on the street all turned nervously in response; straining to see both ends of the small town being completely blocked by the long box trailers of the two18-wheelers the mechanic had miraculously managed to fix weeks ago. There hadn’t seemed like there would be a use for them until that night, but they created the perfect barrier, blocking any retreat.  
  
Snowflakes began falling slowly, like ash from the blackness around them. Johnny looked back at Jim, the inevitability of the moment all but written in the broken asphalt that stretched out between them.  
  
“This is it then, Halpert. Your move.”  
  
Time was an illusion, he discovered. There were memories that time could never erase, a future that fate had set in spite of it, and a present to which it was relentlessly vulnerable.  
  
Gunfire lit up the night sky, the finality of it echoing off the cloud covered heavens in judgment and resolution.  
  
____________________  
  
  
It had been the longest few hours of her life.  
  
Pam was certain she had ruined her fingernails permanently from distractedly biting them as she paced in front of the fireplace in their room, waiting. There had been gunfire, a lot of it, several hours ago, but no news from town. Thankfully, the children had already fallen asleep on their bed, sleeping right through the distant, horrifying sounds filling the night for nearly ten minutes. Isabel, Erin, and Larissa had joined her on the porch at the disturbance, silently looking towards town, miles away, until the last of it faded and the quiet whirl of the wind took its place once again. The silence was deafening with the layer of liquid dusk that hung over the rolling fields.  
  
She sat once again in the high-back chair near the fire, her feet and her heart aching from overuse, the sound of the logs breaking and turning to ash competing with the fear pounding in her ears.  
  
“Pam.”  
  
The sound of his voice had her flying into his arms as he stepped past the door that sat ajar. She buried her face in his chest as his arms encircled her, her hands gripping desperately at the shirt on his back. She held him silently for several long minutes, breathing in the potent scents of gunpowder, blood, earth, and night air, before pulling back to study him, his thick scurf of dark hair making him look fierce in the dim light. Her hands roamed over his body, wordlessly looking for the source of the blood on his shirt, finding only a small nick on his upper arm.  
  
He had yet to speak beyond her name, simply watching her worry over him, a drained, emotionless expression on his face, and it concerned her far more than his physical injuries.  
  
“What happened?” She finally asked, realizing he would not supply the details freely.  
  
He didn’t answer and instead looked over her head at the two sleeping forms in their bed and gestured with a slight lift of his chin.  
  
“They refused to go to bed until you came home. Eventually, they just passed out. I’ll put them in their beds.”  
  
He followed her, picking up Phil, while she gently woke Cece, her sleepy, quiet ‘Dad’ as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He softly closed the door behind them as they returned and she slipped back into his arms.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“No,” he exhaled deeply with honesty and she could feel his warm breath in her hair, “but it’s over.”  
  
“Tell me,” she whispered quietly into his shirt.  
  
“We lost Jeff,” he paused, swallowing hard before continuing, and she pulled back to look at him in shock, “and Jake. And one of Brad’s guys. Mike is hurt, but he should be okay. Larrisa is working on him.”  
  
“Oh no,” Her eyes closed in despair, and tears burned in her throat as she pressed her forehead against his chest. She felt his ragged breath, muscles strained, knowing he was fighting the emptiness.  
  
“They’re all gone.”  
  
She looked up at him again, her eyes searching his face for answers and not finding them, “What do you mean they’re all gone? Mac’s men?”  
  
“They’re dead. All of them.” His voice was detached and still, the words seeming to belong to someone else.  
  
“Oh, Jim.” She could see his brokenness, the shattered pieces held tenuously together by the sheer will of his resolve to be her cornerstone of strength.  
  
“We went to Roger’s to get anyone that was left, to make sure we got them all.” She trembled slightly at the harshness of his words.  
  
“I found Mac,” he paused again, uncertain what more there was to say, and she knew he had been witness to the scene she had left. She could still see it vividly behind her eyelids when she closed them.  
  
“I found your shoes,” he gestured over to the door where he had set them down when he came in, “I know they’re your favorite.”  
  
She smiled softly, and with a rueful shake, tilted her head back slightly to keep her eyes from brimming over. Ever so often, her old Jim floated to the surface, fleeting and faint, showing through the scars.  
  
“We found the girl too, the sister,” he looked up at the ceiling briefly with a shake of his head, “what they did was…” he tried to finish but couldn’t, no description fitting, “and then I thought about you there and…”  
  
His eyes met hers, something painful and deep in the jasper of them, “God help me Pam, but I’m glad they are dead and I’m glad we did it.” Flames hissed in the fireplace and its light danced on the walls and the world felt heavy and dark.  
  
“I know, baby, I know,” her whispered reply as she pulled down his head and kissed him, gently and unassuming, not disturbing the delicate fragmented pieces of each other scattered around them; reassuring him she would spend her days with him, making up for all he had sacrificed.  
  
He held her, the way he always had, and she wrapped her arms around to keep him from drowning, from drifting away into the depths. She silently peeled his tattered, stained shirt from his body, moving in her familiar measured way, as she rid him of the remains of the brutality; wiping away the marks of his intrepidity.  
  
“Pam.” She stopped her motions at his voice. He had some thirty different shades of pronunciation of her name, but she could not identify this particular one.  
  
Instead of saying more, he gently pulled her down to the bed, and she tucked herself against his chest, listening to the hammering of his heart and breathing in the familiar scent of his body; his existence a miracle she would never recover from. The firelight made water-like patterns on the ceiling and she felt as if they were under the depths of the sea as the wind pushed bare branches against the siding wrapping the house.  
  
His hands moved over her, a want of the spirit and a want of the flesh, and she relented, needing both. Gentle caresses passed wordlessly over her throat, her wrists; annulling violence with his touch. There was a quiet confirmation of oneness, the soft declaration that there had only ever been the two of them, that their souls were safe with each other.  
  
She knew it would be okay: them, tonight, always.  
  
__________  
  
The air was still that morning, as if it also mourned losses too heavy to calculate. Three dark crosses stood in relief against a bleak sky. Dwight’s roughly chiseled headstone, standing silent witness under the sprawling, gangly oak tree atop the hill looking over the valley. Dry grass moved under leafless trees, their dark and twisted branches echoing the obscurity of living now and burying friends.  
  
He didn’t want to be here. He would much rather avoid the emotional pain of standing here and listening to Henry talk about his lifelong friend that was no more; of a life that was loved, lived and lost. A life he felt somewhat responsible for, although rationally he knew that wasn’t the case; they all willingly went that night, each man knowing the risks. His mind was relentless in its affirmations of his failures, overriding reason and logic. It was his plan; it was his revenge, ultimately if the blame had to fall somewhere, it was at his feet.  
  
He glanced at Meredith as she spoke. Her hollowed-out expression and lifeless voice bore the unfathomable agony of losing a child, even an adult one, and she was pale and venerable, having aged years in a matter of days. He felt the warmth of Cece and Phil standing near him, and there was a tightening in his chest that felt suffocating at the thought of ever standing in her shoes.  
  
The cool, damp earth crumbled under his hands as he slowly released it over each of the wooden coffins; a final returning to the dust that also gave life. He felt her warm small hand slip into his as the sounds of shovels piercing dirt filled the air, and he was reminded that she was the answer to all the questions he sought.  
  
He stood there long after everyone had gone inside, attempting to reconcile a debt he could never begin to pay, and it started to snow again.  
  
___________  
  
Pam watched from the doorway as Angela pressed the round mound of dough over and over again on the floured countertop, reshaping it continually under the pressure of her hands; much the same way they had all been reshaped repeatedly by the year that had passed, the original form unrecognizable in the end.  
  
“Hey, Angela.”  
  
She turned to look at her, white powdered hands stopping their motion.  
  
“Pam.” Her acknowledging stiff demeanor had many facets and this one almost seemed warm and friendly.  
  
The sounds of Sasha and Cece flipping through old magazines and Phil reading to Jack filtered in faintly from the other room, creating a domestic soundtrack to her movements. She walked over to her quietly, opening her hand to reveal Dwight’s ring sitting conspicuously in the center of her palm.  
  
“Mac had it. I wanted to make sure you got it back.”  
  
Angela’s eyes flickered to hers as two delicate fingers wrapped around the gilded ring, sliding it over her own finger loosely, several sizes too large.  
  
Pam turned away, other responsibilities of the day already working over in her mind.  
  
“Thank you.” Angela’s quiet voice reached her ears and she turned back to her at the sound, slightly startled at the sincere tone.  
  
“I’ve never thanked you, Pam, you or Jim, for all you have done for Phillip and me all these years. I know we would have never made it without Dwight if you had not been here.”  
  
She saw a dozen emotions pass over her features and for the first time, she felt as though she was seeing the true Angela.  
  
“None of us can do this alone, Angela. We all need each other.”  
  
She pushed the door open to the porch, wrapping her sweater tightly around her against the swell of wind that crested over the hill, and he came up behind her as if she summoned him with her thoughts.  
  
“Where have you been?” She didn’t need to turn to him, his proximity enough, the back of his hand brushing against her side.  
  
“The mine. We brought back everything here, so it’s secure. There is enough salt to guarantee we won’t need anymore for a very long time.”  
  
Promises and guarantees were not something lightly taken in After and while they could not guarantee life, or even food for the next winter, she took him at his word.  
  
“What are you doing?” His voice wrapped around her like warm contentment and she leaned against him.  
  
“I’m just enjoying a wonderfully normal day.”  
  
There would be more threats, the wolves would always be at the door, but for now, the little life they had carved out for themselves in the Pennsylvania countryside was enough.  
  
She looked around as people moved about the farm and the steady rhythm had returned with cautious optimism. The rhythm of life that compelled them forward regardless: the harvest and planting seasons, babies being born, children growing. Life marched forward, stumbling occasionally over uneven footing, but blindly forward nonetheless; toward a future where there would undoubtedly be drowning rain and cold, bitter winters and suffocating clouds.  
  
And then sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Thank you all from the bottom of my heart, truly, for all the reviews, messages and kudos.
> 
> To me, this was always Pam’s story. It started with her and ended with her; her fierce love, fortitude and ultimately it was her actions that were the catalyst for its inevitable conclusion. A tale of courage can take on many forms. I only hope I did this one justice. 
> 
> Now, because I’m not completely devoid of happiness, enjoy the epilogue. :)


	19. Epilogue

“Why do they not tell you about the swollen ankles? Could I look more ridiculous before this baby gets here?” Larissa lamented as the cool river rushed around her bare feet as she sat precariously on a rock at the water’s edge.  
  
It was a pleasant, still day; the last of an Indian summer. The warmth pressing into fall gave everyone an unspoken, healing hope. The barn was filling with what would sustain them through another harsh winter, signaling the end of another trying year that they had endured and survived.  
  
“Because if they told you how uncomfortable you would be, you would never agree to it in the first place,” Isabel added from the plaid blanket she rested on, leaning back on her elbows to relieve the growing pressure on her lower back.  
  
“Wait until you have birth amnesia,” Pam said as she laid out more blanket for Jack to crawl on, the breeze blowing up the edges.

“What in the world is that?”  
  
“It is where the more time that passes, the less painful the birth you went through seems to be. It’s the only way you can be convinced to do it all over again.” She finished with a small laugh, enjoying the usefulness her experience gave her.  
  
“That’s just wonderful, Pam. As if we both weren’t scared enough.” Isabel murmured, her diamond ring catching the sunlight as she worried it between her fingers.  
  
“Oh, you both will be fine. See, Jack is almost eleven months old and I can barely remember it.” Turning her face up towards the sun and closing her eyes, soaking in the rare vitamin D.  
  
Shouts and splashing drifted over the steady rumble of the water’s movement, and three heads turned in the direction of the sound.  
  
“Are they actually catching anything, or just scaring everything away?”  
  
They sat on the opposite bank from the three men and two boys, all fully engaged in pursuit of the fish they sought, knee-deep in the river, guiding the boys with their nets in hand.  
  
“All Phil talked about all week was how Uncle Brian and Uncle Mike were going to teach him how to catch fish with a net.”  
  
Larissa dipped more of her leg into the swirling water, “I guarantee you Mike has no idea what he’s doing.”  
  
“I promise you neither does Brian. I think they just wanted an excuse to skip out on working in the field and splash around in the river all afternoon.” Isabel added, stroking the thin navy cotton shirt stretched across her small, round belly.  
  
“Men are just overgrown boys sometimes.” The agreement of nodding heads echoed her sentiment.  
  
“Jim, are you there?” Brad’s voice suddenly came through the crackling sound of the walkie while Jack began gumming the rubber end of the antenna.  
  
“Jack, no,” Pam said as she wrangled it away from him and pressed the button, “Jim is trying to catch a fish, at least that’s supposedly what’s happening.”  
  
“Can you tell him we need him at the gate?” The sound of his voice reverberating in stereo from Brian’s walkie next to Isabel, “There are some people here that say they know him. He says his name is Tom.” Her mouth dropped open, and she looked at Larissa wide-eyed.  
  
“Tom Halpert.”


End file.
